Cross Your Heart (and Hope to Die)
by Miss Nihilist
Summary: By some cruel twist of fate, it was a freak accident that killed Ben Tennyson. When Rook received a cosmic second chance at undoing the disaster that he blamed himself for, he first thought of it as a blessing. Until the same day repeated again. And again and again and again. [Time Loop AU] Cover by helydrawscomics on Tumblr
1. but love goes on (and on forever)

Later, Rook would remember thinking that it didn't begin like an unusual day. That was because it _wasn't_.

His eyes opened to the sound of his alarm going off at five in the morning, to the tune of a Revonnahgander folk song that he'd had it set to since he first left for Plumbers' Academy years prior. He had meant to change it before, but it was his mother's favorite song and it reminded him of home. And even if it hadn't, it was a good tune regardless. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up and yawning, Rook nodded along to the chorus in his head.

_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanından ayrılmayacağım._

_Beni cehenneme sürükleyebilirsin,  
__Bu senin elini tutabildiğim anlamına gelirse._

He let himself listening to the familiar tune before rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day. Rook showered, brushed his fur, got his Proto-Armor on, and made sure that his bed was made and his room was spotless before arriving at the cafeteria. There, Rook grabbed a Plumber-approved ration of protein bars and ate them quickly before reaching the Plumber Fitness Training Center at five-thirty sharp.

It was so early in the morning that hardly anyone else was there, so Rook had pick of the machinery. His normal routine was fairly simple: two-hundred pushups, sit-ups, and squats, followed by a twenty-mile run, before doing a hundred deadlifts and bench presses. He had more, but usually saved the longer workouts for the weekend, when patrol with Ben started later — that was just his Thursday routine.

Speaking of Ben, Rook was right on time to pick up his partner for work. At seven-fifteen, he pulled up alongside the driveway of the Tennyson residence. He saw the curtains shift and, a minute later, Ben ran out the door with an apple in hand, shrugging on a jacket. It was heavier than his hoodie, but just as personalized — black with electric green accents and the number "10" emblazoned over his heart.

It wasn't exactly cold outside, with the temperature right around fifty-degrees-fahrenheit, but Ben had explained passionately that for California, fifty degrees might as well be freezing. Even if Rook wasn't cold in the slightest and there was no hint of snowfall. But it was December, and he doubted that Ben's mother would let him leave the house without a coat anyway, especially not with the wind whipping as it was.

"Catch," Ben said cheerfully, tossing Rook his apple as he slid into the passenger seat. "Mom's on a fruit juice cleanse this week. You have no idea what I had to go through to wrestle that away from her without having to send it through the blender first."

Rook smirked, amused, and took a bite out of the fruit. Apples weren't very similar to Amber Ogia, but the slight tang mixed in with the natural sweetness left the same feeling on Rook's tongue. "Really? All of that effort and yet you did not even plan to eat it." He took another bite. "Is a juice cleanse not a good thing? I thought that you liked smoothies."

Ben made a face. He finished buckling himself in and folded his arms over his chest, slouching down in his seat. "No way. She keeps going on about "removing the impurities" from her body and won't stop putting kale and beets in everything. Seriously! Who mixes _beets _and _cucumbers_?" He shuddered overdramatically. "Besides, I need _actual _food occasionally, you know. Dad's trying, but he's not a very good cook."

Setting down the half-finished apple, Rook started the TRUK. He pulled away from the curb and out of Ben's neighborhood, winding his way out of the suburbs and into downtown traffic. "Did I not watch you drink a smoothie made with peanut butter, pineapple, and raw onion just the other day? Kale and beet seems rather delicious in comparison," he teased.

Shaking his head, Ben made an expression of mock disappointment. "I'm wounded, Rook. Forsaken by my own best friend. This is why I have trust issues."

They shared a laugh as Rook made a beeline for the nearest Mr. Smoothies. Even if it wasn't a substantial breakfast, it was better than letting Ben go hungry, even if he seemed determined to be. They would be a little late to patrol as a result, but Rook didn't mind all that much. It had been quiet recently.

"I can't believe that the Plumbers don't give us a Christmas break," Ben sighed. He had one arm propped on the table, cupping his chin, and the other was fiddling with the straw of his empty cup. Across from him at the Mr. Smoothies, Rook was taking his time in finishing his own drink. "I mean, I got one when I was in high school. Two whole weeks, Rook. Do you have any idea how important that is to a teenager? How _sacred_?" He let out a frustrated huff. "Mom and dad haven't even put up the tree yet. They keep insisting that they don't mind waiting for me to have time off to do it as a family."

Truth be told, no, Rook really didn't understand what Ben was going on about. Revonnah wasn't big on holidays. The Harvest Festival was really only a celebration for the completion of months of labor and toil. They didn't have a school system like humans apparently did. They either worked in the fields during the Harvest or were working in their settlements otherwise. Rook had fond memories of sneaking away under the Harvest fireworks to read Plumber textbooks while his father was busy.

"Why do you need to hang porcelain ornaments off of a dead tree _together_?" Rook asked with a frown. "I have read up on this holiday, Christmas, but I admit that it does not make much sense to me. What does any of this have to do with the death of your messiah?"

There was a snort, like Ben was trying not to laugh. "It's not really about Jesus or religion, Rook," he said with a dismissive flick of his hand. The motion yanked his straw out of the smoothie cup and Ben began idly fiddling with it as he talked. "Besides, he's not _my _messiah. Mom and dad were never super religious and… I don't know, I guess "God" doesn't mean a whole lot once you've recreated the universe." He smirked to himself. "It wasn't even that hard. I don't know why it took God seven days. Anyway, Christmas is more about spending time with family and friends. You know, recognizing the people who are important to you." He looked to Rook expectantly.

"Wasn't the last holiday about that?" Rook asked. He had finished his smoothie, but he wasn't in any hurry to get back on patrol. He was enjoying their conversation. "The one about turkey and thankfulness. Why do you not decorate a tree for that event or hang lights everywhere?"

Ben made an impatient huff and stood up, apparently having decided that they were done. He tossed his empty cup toward a trash can several tables away, narrowly passing the rim and managing to get it in. "That's a completely unfair comparison. Christmas and Thanksgiving are _totally _different!"

Arching a brow, Rook hummed curiously. "I fail to see the distinction, other than one celebrates a religion and the other celebrates the founding of your country." He fell into step next to Ben, making their way back toward the Proto-TRUK. He dropped his garbage into the trash can without the need for fanfare. Idly, he wondered if Ben was cold. They probably should have sat inside, but despite the biting wind, sitting under the green Mr. Smoothies umbrella was something of a tradition.

"You're too focused on how those holidays started and not how they changed," Ben retorted. "Sure, maybe some guys a thousand years ago thought that putting stars on top of trees was a great way to thank a dude for dying on a cross, but only religious people really think about Christmas like that anymore. And some religious people have different holidays because Christmas doesn't reflect their beliefs." He made a hopeless gesture with his hands, looking strained. They had to pause to get into the TRUK, but Ben didn't hesitate to continue once they were both situated. "Okay, this is probably coming out totally wrong, but… Thanksgiving is about being thankful for _everything _you have in life, and Christmas focuses a lot more on family and home. That sort of stuff. I mean, for me it does, anyway." His expression smoothed out and he shot Rook a grin. "Plus, when I was six, I got a really cool remote-controlled monster truck out of it and chased Gwen around with it for days. I guess you could say I'm a little nostalgic."

Ah, yes. The gift-buying was another little tradition that Rook couldn't quite wrap his head around. Revonnah had gift-giving, of course, but it was usually only done between courting pairs or family on specific occasions. Gifts during the Naming Ceremony were the most important tokens of affection that Revonnahganders received in their lives.

"Does the gifting not get tiresome?" Rook asked. He tapped a string of commands into the Proto-TRUK's touch screen to open their Thursday patrol route and started them off in that direction. "You and Gwendolyn share a birthday right after Christmas, on the 27th, do you not?"

That made Ben perk up from where he had been slumped against the window. He nodded rapidly. "Oh, yeah! We do. Huh. I guess I forgot." The look that he gave Rook was mirthful. "I'm going to be seventeen. Man, I gotta text her and work out some plans. We have to celebrate together, obviously. I mean, that's what we've done everyday since we were born. Same hospital and everything," he stated matter-of-factly. "When's your birthday, Rook?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully, considering it. Birthdays weren't a huge deal to Revonnah society. Birth was more of a formality — you weren't considered one of the tribe until you lost your bi'nthak and became an adult, anyway. "In Earth measures of time, I believe that my birthday falls somewhere in the spring. I will be twenty-years-old," he explained.

For some reason, that surprised Ben. He shot Rook a thoughtful look. "Really?" After a moment, he shrugged it off. "Well, you can still come to our birthday party, even if you are getting old. I mean, Kevin only turned eighteen back in April."

After that, their patrol was quiet. Not in a bad way — it was only that neither of them had much to say. Rook took that to be a good thing. Unlike when he first became Ben's partner, he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with pointless conversation. They both watched the city blur by out the window in comfortable silence.

The only exciting part of the afternoon was when they got a call for a burglary in progress. Rook got them to the scene as quickly as the Proto-TRUK would allow, but by the time they arrived, the perpetrator had already been cuffed. One of Fistrick's thugs had been attempting to rob a pharmaceutical development building for experimental performance enhancers, but had been stopped rather easily. They were lackeys for a reason, after all.

While they were there, Rook and Ben decided to help with clean up. They had nothing better to do and neither of them wanted to do the paperwork to process a criminal that they didn't even catch. Rook used the Proto-Tool's laser to seal the cracks in the road caused by the explosion, while Ben used Upgrade to repair and improve hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of expensive machinery that was damaged when half of the building collapsed. The rubble was moved and collected by bulldozers and the experiments were moved off-site for safe-keeping while the facility was under reconstruction.

It was while Rook was finishing up his self-designated task that the barricade set-up to hold back the press and onlookers was knocked over. Thankfully, they didn't go near the ambulances or crumbling building. They made a beeline for Ben, unsurprisingly.

Rook hung back, watching them shove microphones in Upgrade's face, no longer as perturbed by his alien forms as they had once been. He shifted back to his human form in a flash of light, which only seemed to excite the crowd more. One particularly ecstatic girl shoved her way forward to ask Ben to autograph her "_Ben 10: Live!_" graphic t-shirt. A news anchor was practically screaming in an attempt to get Ben's attention.

Personally, Rook didn't see how his partner could manage it all. It looked unbearable.

He was too far away to make out what they were saying very well, but Ben smiled sheepishly for the cameras and did a great job at looking casual as he (presumably) answered questions about the incident. The crowd probably could have held him up for another few hours, but the head of Plumber Public Communications — a human female that Rook didn't know the name of — came over to relieve Ben of the attention and politely guide the onlookers back to a safe distance. After that, no one seemed to have very many questions.

A part of Rook wanted to ask if handling all of those people was as exhaustive as it looked. He wasn't sure why he didn't, just that the look on Ben's face said that he appreciated the quiet as they walked back to the Proto-TRUK.

Once seated and buckled in though, Rook sighed, giving into his concern. "Ben, are you—?" He started, only for the radio pinging to catch his attention. He answered it immediately, as he was taught to. "Rook Blonko, responding. What is the emergency?"

Whoever was on monitor duty — a male who didn't sound human — replied anxiously. "_There's been an accident. A power line snapped and started a massive electrical fire on a block of old buildings. The local police can handle the fire, but they can't get everyone out. Do you two_—?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Ben swiped the communicator from Rook's hand. "Consider us already there. Just send the address," he ordered. His forlorn expression was gone, replaced by that hardened look Ben always got when he knew that a situation was serious.

"_Can do_," the cadet replied. He hung up their call and the TRUK's computer pinged as it received the address.

It wasn't far, thankfully. Rook slammed on the gas and shot out onto the road, before hitting the breaks and performing a perfect U-turn in the middle of traffic. He sped forward like a bullet, tires spinning out as he crushed his foot to the breaks not a minute after leaving their last location. He only just remembered to put the car in park.

When they had been told that the fire was taking up a block, it hadn't been an exaggeration. Flames lapped at the clouds, smoke unfurling lazily and blotting out the pristine sky like a blanket. It was an older part of town and the buildings were mainly homes and small businesses, all smoldering even as firefighters already on the scene struggled to hose everything down. The broken power line that started it all laid sparking in the street, still being whipped around by the powerful wind.

"You see what you can do about getting some of those people out of there, Rook," Ben instructed, already flipping through the Omnitrix's options. "I'll handle the fire. The sooner that's gone, the easier it'll be to get everyone out."

Rook nodded as he reached for the side-pouch at his hip. From it, he pulled out a face-mask that would allow him to breathe. He only had an emergency fifteen minutes of oxygen, but there was a lot that he could do in that amount of time. "I am on it. Good luck," he said with a nod as he turned away from his partner.

There was a flash of green light from the Omnitrix and Rook shot a look over his shoulder to see that Ben had selected Heatblast. A Pyronite was a good choice for the situation — with his pyrokinesis managing the fire would be a short task.

He selected an older-looking building that a group of firefighters were working on. The flames hadn't reached it completely yet, but they were having trouble breaking the crumbling pieces out of the way to get at a group of people still trapped inside. There were two firetrucks on scene, but one didn't have a ladder installed on top and the one that did was in use for saving others. Hatchets could break down doors, but entire sections of walls? Rook didn't say anything. The firemen took one look at him and any protest immediately quieted as they recognized him. Or perhaps they simply saw the inhuman creature approaching and assumed that he had something to do with Ben Tennyson.

The Proto-Tool was already in his hands, so Rook simply extended the staff function and, pushing off from the ground, used the support and his powerful legs to land neatly through the third-story window. He had his face-mask on for easy breathing, and while the heat was uncomfortable, his enhanced eye-sight made it easier to see through the smoke and he could hear the weak cries for help that human ears wouldn't have been able to pick out.

Carefully, but quickly, Rook worked his way through the crumbling building. He wasn't sure what it was before the fire — some sort of home that doubled as a shop on the first floor, perhaps? — but there wasn't a lot to search. He buzzed through the mostly-empty top floor, where most of the smoke was, and dropped to the second through a hole in the floor. The flames were worse there but Rook could see better. He strained to hear over the rushing of fire, faintly able to pick out voices.

It took using the butt of the Proto-Tool to break a door down but, in what appeared to be a bedroom, he found a woman pinned beneath a collapsed wardrobe and what looked like her husband trying to help her. A little boy gripped the man's pants. They all looked out of breath and unhealthily flushed. The heat was starting to get to Rook, too, but he had been in the fire for far less time than they had.

Now secure that he had found them, Rook used the Proto-Tool's vacuum function to clear the air around them. In the long run it didn't do much, but it seemed to relieve the small family. "Please, do not panic. I am an agent of the Plumbers and I am here to help get all of you out of here," Rook said. As he spoke, he used his Tool's hose to dampen the worst of the flames eating at the floor. He didn't have a lot of reserve water, but it was enough to do the job. "Is there anyone else trapped in her with you?"

The man shook his head, wrapping on arm around his child. The other firmly clasped the hand of his wife. "No, just us." He coughed violently. His face was streaked with ash but, underneath, it was pale. "Please, my wife… She's pinned, and I think that she broke her ankle when the wardrobe collapsed. I heard something crack."

Rook nodded. He said nothing and instead flipped the Proto-Tool back into a staff. He jammed the end of it beneath the wardrobe, pushing down with all of his strength. Whatever was in the wardrobe made it obscenely heavy but, thankfully, he managed to get it up enough that the woman could wrench herself free and crawl out from underneath. She whimpered and hissed in pain all the while. At the sight of her leg, Rook couldn't blame her. It was much worse than a broken ankle.

On the floor beneath them, something collapsed and the entire house shuddered. Rook clench his jaw unhappily, muttering a quick thanks that the child was being so quiet and still, before saying to the man, "Please carry your child, and follow me. We will all be leaving now." He knelt next to the woman, setting his Tool over his shoulder as he did so. "Pardon me, but I will have to carry you." No time to ask for permission. He looped his arms underneath her, mindful of her twisted leg, and darted out of the room with the father and child in tow.

Thankfully, the Proto-Tool had a hands-off feature. Rook found a window with an unobscured view. It led out to the main street below, where an ambulance had finally arrived. Hopefully, more were coming. He had a feeling that they were going to need it. He launched his grappler at the ground below and waved the man forward. With the small boy nestled in one arm and clinging to his shirt, the father grabbed on to the rope and slid gracelessly to the bottom. He stumbled on the pavement, but it didn't matter. Paramedics were already waiting to receive him.

For his part, Rook retracted the grappler and adjusted the woman in his arms as carefully as possible. She had her face hidden in his neck, wetting the body suit beneath his armor with her tears. That was fine. It was better that she not witness what he was about to do.

Rook jumped up onto the window ledge and dropped, absorbing the shock of the fall easily. Unfortunately, he couldn't completely avoid jostling the woman. The noise she made was raw and ragged, her grip on his shoulder tightening to the point of discomfort even through his armor. It felt like she was trying very hard not to cry out.

"I apologize," Rook muttered. He carefully pried her hands off of him and deposited her gently onto a gurney.

His heart was pounding and everything still felt hot, despite the fresh air running through his ash-clogged fur. Idly, Rook watched to make sure that she was being taken care of. He knew that he still had people to save, but he was out-of-breath and still a little stunned by what had happened. There wasn't a lot of time to process everything while he was running on instinct and adrenaline. That was three people saved, but how many more were left?

He turned to look down the street, intent on finding a building in dire need of evacuating, only to catch on something else instead. Ben, still as Heatblast, wasn't focusing on the buildings. He had turned his attention to the broken power line, which had somehow wound up out of the street gutter and onto the sidewalk. That couldn't be good. The building that it was next to look particularly fragile with strokes of fire painting its sides — like it might fall down if the wind blew a little too hard.

Rook jogged over, making sure to keep a good distance from the live wire. Electrocution was a serious risk, though Ben didn't seem to care all that much. As his partner drew closer, though, Rook felt the need to intervene. "Ben!" He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting to be heard over the noise of all that was going on around them. "Ben, what are you doing? That power line should be handled by the proper experts!"

"_I am the proper expert!_" Heatblast called back, lips made of liquid magma stretching to give Rook what was probably supposed to be a grin. "_I keep putting out the fires, but this thing keeps reigniting them! Don't worry so much, Rook. I'll just melt it and cut off the feed that way._"

He bit his lip, uncertain and fidgeting. "Wouldn't an electrical alien suit this task better?" Rook tried, but Ben was no longer listening.

As he moved forward, Heatblast's hands outstretched to curl around the wire, the wind turned for the worst. A harsh gust blew through the street, kicking the flames into a frenzy. One building collapsed and Rook, surprised, whirled around to stare in horror as it fell. It wasn't until he heard a shout of pain that he remembered the live power cord. _Why hadn't anyone shut it off manually yet?_

"_Ben_!" Rook turned back to be greeted by a green flash and his partner was suddenly very human again. Ben looked dazed and frazzled, no doubt the result of getting himself electrocuted. He winced, clutching his arm, and it was then that Rook noticed all the sparks that the Omnitrix was kicking up. Had it been what got electrocuted, and not Ben?

Dread sank into Rook's stomach. He watched Ben back up, obviously avoiding the frizzling power line, and then stiffen as he slowly turned around. Behind him, the old building was hanging on its last legs and nearly every inch was spurting flames. It was the sound of something inside of the wooden structure snapping that made Rook jerk out of his surprise and into motion, but by then, it was too late.

The building tipped forward. Ben slammed on the Omnitrix, to no effect. Rook started forward and gloved hands wrapped around his arms, holding him back. At the last second, his partner whirled around, and later, all Rook would be able to think about was how _green _Ben's eyes looked in that second before the building collapsed and crushed him.

Someone was screaming. It took Rook a moment to realize that it was him.

He tore himself free of the men holding him back, though only succeeded because they were too stunned to keep holding him in place. Rook sprinted faster than he ever had in his life, as if that might make a difference with the building already…

_No. _

No, Ben _had _to be alive. He was going to squirm out of the rubble as Ball Weevil, or blast his way out as NRG, or phase out as Ghostfreak. Then he would see Rook's face, smeared in ash save for two matted tear tracks cutting through his fur, and would awkwardly laugh and apologize for worrying Rook so badly and nudge him while he offered to buy the next round of smoothies as an apology.

Ben couldn't die. He _couldn't_. Rook refused — he wasn't going to _allow _it.

But there was no flash of green light from beneath that pile of rubble. Even as Rook fell to his knees and began desperately clawing through the debris, ripping one of his claws out in the process, there was no laughter followed by a smug "_gotcha!" _No matter how frantically Rook tore into the cement and smoldering wood that was keeping him from his partner, Ben didn't resurface. He didn't make a single sound.

He pushed a rock out of the way and Rook felt something inside of him wither. Ben's arm stuck out at an angle that he was certain humans weren't supposed to bend to. It was his left hand, the Omnitrix still sparking on his wrist. For the first time, it looked less than perfect, greyed with ash and dented. Almost as though, when the building had fallen, it had crushed more than just Ben's body.

Rook swallowed bile, leaning back on his feet. His hands were shaking. He wasn't crying, but his pupils couldn't have been bigger than pinpricks. "Ben…" Something possessed him to reach out. He wasn't sure why he bothered. Even before his fingers brushed the still-warm skin of his friend, Rook knew exactly what he was going to feel when he nudged the Omnitrix strap out of the way and curled his fingers around Ben's wrist.

No pulse.

It took all of his willpower to not scream, but Rook swallowed the shout building in his throat. To cry and wail would mean acknowledging it. And he wouldn't. He _couldn't_. Ben would be fine, like he always was. He had to be, or else…

Or else Rook wasn't sure what he was going to do.

The sound of Plumber-brand sirens didn't reach Rook's ears until he felt a hand on his shoulder. As soon as someone touched him, he whipped his Proto-Tool out and whirled on them, baring his fangs. He was _growling_, a wounded noise deep in his chest that his parents would have been appalled to hear one of their children making.

But the human Plumber staring down the muzzle of his gun didn't even flinch. She looked at Rook with sad eyes and said, softly, "Agent Rook, please either help us remove the rubble or step out of the way. We won't force you into anything, but…" A flash of heartbreak in her eyes betrayed her mask of calm. "We can't leave him like that. He needs to… be returned to base so that a decision can be made."

He didn't need to ask what sorts of "decisions" she was referring to. Should they make a galaxy-wide announcement about Ben's death? Would he be cremated or buried? Who would be invited to the funeral?

Oh, _God_. Ben's funeral: the two words that Rook never thought he would have to put next to each other.

He choked on his growl, the Proto-Tool falling from his hands with a clatter. "I don't— I'm not—" Rook winced, but not at the language that he was using. He really wasn't dreaming. This was all his reality. "I'm sorry," Rook settled on finally. He kept his head down and turned away from the Plumber that he didn't know, fixing his eyes back on Ben's arm. On Ben's _body_. "I… yes. Of course I'll help. I'm sorry." He swallowed thickly, making no effort to move. His gaze was locked on the place where Ben's arm emerged from between the rubble, as though he was still clawing for the surface. "He's my partner."

He _was _Rook's partner.

The female Plumber set a hand on Rook's shoulder, patting consolingly in a way that was so human — so _Ben _— that it almost brought him to tears. "I know," was all she said, murmured, as though she didn't believe it either.

There was a team of other Plumbers waiting on the sidelines that came forward when the female gave them the clear. Together, the six of them pushed the rest of the building out of the way and dug Ben out.

No one seemed to want to touch him, so they dug around him instead, clearing out space to avoid having to look at him while they waited for the arrival of the casket to signal that it was time to load him up. The fire sputtered on the buildings around them, finally being beaten back by the firefighters on scene, as though they had died right along side Ben.

It didn't feel _real_. Unlike the others, Rook couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Ben. The worst of the rubble was out of the way, but he didn't move away. He stood above his partner and stared blankly. He _looked _but didn't _see_, his mind thousands of lightyears away from that broken spine and bruised collarbone and blood-splattered skin. It _couldn't _be real.

How could it _possibly _be real?

It was the same female Plumber from before that startled Rook out of his ugly reverie. She set a hand on his shoulder, tugging with no real intent to pull him to his feet. He didn't look at her, gaze fixed on the Plumbers who had arrived with a casket. How long had they been there? A minute? An hour? It all felt the same to Rook.

"You should head back to base, Blonko," the female said. Her tone was coaxing, almost pleading. As though she already knew that he was going to refuse. "You don't have to give your report on the incident until tomorrow. The death of a partner is difficult."

There. Someone had finally said it. _Death_.

Ben was dead.

"Ben's dead." Rook blinked hard, looking up at her as though confused. It was either that or start crying and he didn't think that he had the energy for it. "What do I do now?" He wasn't sure why he thought that she would have the answers. Maybe it was because Rook didn't. Maybe it was because he _never _did, always relying on Ben for direction.

Maybe it was because of her sad, green eyes.

"Go back to base," she said again, more firmly the second time. "You should rest. We can handle contacting Magister Tennyson." Her expression faltered, pained. "He… He should know about this."

Before she had finished, Rook was shaking his head. He straightened up, using willpower that he didn't have to brush her comforting hand away. Ben used to touch his shoulders a lot — usually when he was the one to initiate contact, it was to set a hand on Rook's shoulder with the intent to console. It suddenly struck Rook that he had never actually _felt _Ben. Not without gloves and armor in the way. And he thought of the way that Ben and Gwen hugged or how Kevin would put a hand around Ben's shoulders or those times when Ester latched onto Ben's arm and placed a kiss on his cheek, and it made Rook feel like he had missed an opportunity of some kind.

He realized that he had been standing there with his mouth partly open for nearly a minute and shook his head, forcing the thought away. What a bizarre thing to be thinking about.

Of course, Rook could always touch Ben _now_. He was right there, a few yards away, being tucked as tenderly as possible into the metallic casket. Rook could touch him, but it would be cold. Empty. Meaningless.

"I'll tell Magister Tennyson," Rook managed. "He deserves to hear it from me. I'm Ben's partner. I'm the one who—" he choked and couldn't get the rest of the words out. _The one who failed him_.

It seemed like the female wanted to say more, but Rook didn't want the comfort or the pity or the lies. He turned away from the gruesome scene, blood splatters caked with dust and already drying, and pulled his Plumbers' badge out of one of the pouches on his armor. It took several minutes of standing there, staring ahead of him at nothing, until Rook finally worked up the courage to call.

The line was answered immediately. "_Rook." _Magister Tennyson sounded breathless and ragged. Raw, almost.

His tone made Rook wince. He started to stay something, but his mouth had gone dry. It took a few tries to get the words out. "Magister Tennyson, it… Ben. There was an accident."

"_I know," _he said, almost consolingly. There was a tinge of desperation behind his words that made Rook wish that he had just let someone else handle the call. "_I sent out the order for the ambulance. Is he….?" _Max didn't finish. Rook was surprised that he got that far at all.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Ben, he… an incident with a power line caused the Omnitrix to malfunction. A building collapsed. He didn't make it." Then, whispering _and certainly not crying_, "I'm so, _so _sorry, sir."

Magister Tennyson was quiet for a long time. So long, in fact, that Rook thought that he had hung up. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. To be comforted? Or to be lectured? Fired on the spot?

In the end, all Rook heard was a long, shaky sigh. "_Come back to base, son," _Max said, sounding decades older and so _exhausted _that it hurt. "_There's… nothing that can be done for him now. We have to make preparations. Let the rest of the family know about… w-what happened. And you should take some time to process this. I can arrange for an appointment with a licensed Plumber psychiatrist if you need it."_

Rook was all but certain that talking to someone wasn't going to help. He somehow felt worse after the offer, after Max's kindness. A part of him was waiting to be berated and reprimanded and punished. Why was no one placing the blame on him when it was so clearly Rook's fault?

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "I… I should be the one to tell Ben's parents. And Gwendolyn and Kevin. And Ester, if she hasn't seen it on the news already. I should—"

"_Rook." _Magister Tennyson's voice cut through what had rapidly become a self-loathing spiral, startling Rook badly enough that he immediately snapped his mouth shut. "_Rest. I can handle everything with family. We can talk about this tomorrow. You've been through a lot." _There was a pause. And, almost as though he didn't want to say it, Max managed, "_You know that it's what Ben would want you to do. You're using contractions."_

He almost snapped at the Magister for that: for worrying about _fucking contractions _when Ben was dead, and gone, and _crushed_, and he wasn't ever coming back, and it was _all Rook's goddamn fault_—

But then something inside of him deflated, uncompressed, as though Rook had lost the ability to be angry or sad or confused. He felt so lost. "_Okay_." He swallowed thickly. "Okay." The line went dead. Rook automatically put his badge away and started walking.

The Proto-TRUK was ahead of him. The casket was behind. Rook walked past the first responders, past the news vans that were gathering like vultures, past the fire damage and the rubble and the broken electrical line. He didn't look back.

The only thing that saved Rook was how instinctive driving was. He stared at the road but didn't see it, letting his subconscious guide him back to base. He didn't want to be there, not surrounded by the pitying stares and depressive atmosphere, but his room was at the base and Rook needed to be alone. A part of him almost wanted to go to Ben's house, one of the few places on Earth that he considered welcoming, but the idea of facing Ben's parents filled him with such an acute sense of dread that Rook found it hard to breathe.

On the drive back to base, his communicator rang. A glance at it — which he would never ordinarily do when he was driving, but being aware of the road had never mattered less to him than when the passenger seat was empty — showed that Gwendolyn was calling. He ignored it. Then she called again, and a third time, a fourth, fifth, sixth, until Kevin tried, and then Rook reached over and turned the communicator off entirely. He wanted to crush it, hurl it at the ground as though the shattering parts would somehow bring Ben back. As if breaking something would earn him a cry of, _"Woah, Rook, calm down!"_ and a small hand on his shoulder while Ben awkwardly tried to soothe him.

He should at least tell Ester. She was Ben's girlfriend and she deserved to hear it from him before the news lit up with the story. It would be world-wide in an hour, if that, and known across the galaxy in a day. It was important to hurry, and yet…

Rook parked the Proto-TRUK in the Plumber base's garage and only just remembered to turn it off and lock it before he was swinging out of the hanger. Other Plumbers were staring at him, some looking like they wanted to talk to him, and panic set in. What started as a walk turned into a jog and then running and then Rook was sprinting through the halls. The walls began to blur. There were so many stupid memories — _their first day on the job together and Ben had shown up late and unhappy with a smoothie in hand, when Dr. Psychobos had broken in and taken a piece of the Omnitrix and Rook watched his partner sink to his knees in agony, loading up to fight the Incursean invasion and hating how quiet it was without Ben all the while_ — small, fleeting things that Rook had taken for granted, and they _burned_.

He slammed into his room panting and sweating like he'd just run a marathon, locking the door as though it would keep Ben on the other side of it. But even though he had never been in Rook's room, the _lack_ of Ben's presence was in of itself a memory. It struck him that he had never been in Ben's room, either. It struck Rook that he had missed a lot of opportunities to be a better friend.

With fumbling hands, he ripped his armored chest-plate off and dropped it angrily at his feet. The leg braces and boots and gloves followed, leaving Rook in a solid black jumpsuit. He couldn't be bothered to wriggle his way out of it, with his fur always making that a hassle. He glanced at his bed and considered laying down for about a second before dismissing it.

Ben… He really was _gone_.

Clenching his jaw so tightly that it ached, Rook bared his fangs at the floor and snarled like an animal. There was no decorum or civility in the way he pulled his leg back and kicked his armor as hard as possible, slamming the chest plate into the wall with a deafening _crack_. He didn't care. What did it _matter_ how Rook acted? His insides felt hollowed out and raw, like something ugly was clawing to break out of his chest. And Rook wished that it would, wished that the pressure would alleviate because he_ couldn't fucking breathe_.

He grabbed his single pillow with his claws, tearing it and letting the plush inside scatter over his bed. He slammed a fist into the wall and did it again, uncaring of the bruising or the blood welling from the splits in his knuckles. It dried in his fur, an ugly shade of red, like the smear left on the pavement once they had carted Ben away. Furious — at himself, at the Plumbers, at the _world_ — Rook flipped his compartment closet onto its side and sent his fake plant flying and shoved all of his textbooks off of the bookshelf before knocking that over, too. He moved to the nightstand and, as instantaneously as flipping a switch, the anger was sucked out of him.

His scowl melted into a frown and Rook sunk down onto the mattress slowly. It was only then that he noticed that his hands were shaking. And so was the rest of him. Rook reached for what had grabbed his attention. It was an empty picture frame, pink and covered with flowers and glitters and hearts. Ben had given it to him a month ago as a gag gift, something he had seen in a store and "reminded" him of Rook. He had never bothered to put a photo in it. The price tag was still on the back of it. Seeing it, Rook felt something huge and yawning open up in his gut and his heart plunged into it. Forget being partners — he was a _terrible_ friend.

With as much gentleness as he could muster, Rook set the frame back down and wiped his eyes with trembling hands. His fingers came back damp. He swallowed, something heavy locked in his throat, and scrambled for the right words.

"I'm sorry," Rook breathed. It felt weak, but there was no accurate way for him to describe the depths of his remorse and regret and guilt with words alone. "Ben. I'm _sorry_."

He fell back on his bed, staring up at the blurring ceiling. His legs were still hanging off the edge but Rook couldn't muster up the energy to lay down correctly. He closed his eyes and, after hours and hours of miserably tossing and turning, sleep came as a mercy.

* * *

**A/N: Since this isn't my main work at the moment (go read my other Ben 10 fanfic, "Diamonds Are Forever," if you want something consistent) and is mostly something that I'm writing as a passion project/side interest, updates won't be regular. I'll post them as I finish chapters. I do have something of an ending panned out, and I know the hows and whys and whats of the plot, but whether or not I ever properly finish this fic is something that I can't guarantee (but, as always, reviews are great motivators, especially since I'm juggling this one between two other side projects _and _my main work).**

**I know that the first chapter isn't super great, but it's mostly set-up for the future chapters. This is going to be a slow burn, so don't expect any sort of love confession any time soon. I have a bunch of ideas for future chapters in the works, but just know that it's going to get angstier before it gets cute or romantic (and even then, it's still going to be pretty angsty).**

**I'm also hoping to make these chapters shorter, hopefully closer to 5k or 6k words in the future. Consider this chapter an outlier just because it's the first one. **

**Anyone want the playlist for this fic?**


	2. start over (oh darling), begin again

Rook woke to the sound of his alarm going off, the same song that he heard every day bursting him unpleasantly from his exhausted haze.

_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanından ayrılma—_

He reached over and shut it off with a grumble, rolling over in bed and pressing his face into the mattress. Habit was gnawing at Rook to get up and get showered and do his exercises, but he couldn't be bothered. He didn't get those few, blissful seconds of unawareness when he first woke up.

Ben was dead. It was Rook's fault.

He was going to have questions to answer. How was he supposed to answer the questions on some standard Plumber report when he could barely stand to think about it?

Twisting around again, Rook looked at his alarm clock with a frown on his face. Weird. He couldn't remember setting it the night before, but it still had woken him up at five in the morning like it was a normal day. He scowled at the thought — "normal" used to be wherever Ben was not, but Rook didn't see how anything could be normal again with Ben gone.

Come to think of it, it was weird that Rook had his pillow, too. He clearly remembered tearing it apart the night before. The memory made him twinge with embarrassment, glad that no one had been around to watch him react like that. But still, where had he gotten a second pillow from?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, finally taking notice of his surroundings. Rook _knew _that he had fallen asleep still in his body suit, armor discarded on the ground, yet he was in his boxers the way that he normally slept and his floor was clear. The mess he had made the night before was gone. His closet was standing tall, his fake plant was at the foot of his bed, and all of his textbooks were organized in alphabetical order by author the same way that he always left them.

The pillow, Rook might have been able to accept as Gwendolyn stopping by to see him and Max letting her into his room, but everything else? No one could have cleaned his room that silently. It seemed so bizarre that anyone would _bother_. Not to mention the implications of undressing him and tucking him in properly.

He thought about it longer, but there was no other conclusion that Rook could reach for what had happened. He considered getting up and finding out, but he also couldn't fathom what there _was _to find out. So his room had been cleaned and someone had put him to bed. There were worse crimes to commit, Rook supposed. He didn't know where any sort of "investigation" would start and he really didn't want to waste his time on something so comparatively trivial.

The strange occurrence was pushed from his mind and Rook collapsed back down onto the bed. He didn't want to think, so he forced himself to focus on absolutely nothing at all. And nothing was better than thoughts of Ben. Rook clung to the haziness in his head and angled his head to blankly watch the time tick by.

Five in the morning faded into six, then seven, all in what felt like seconds. With every missed occurance on his schedule, Rook's mind filled in the blanks. He should be showered and dressed, having disassembled and reassembled the Proto-Tool. Then he would grab the standard morning rations from the cafeteria and do his Friday workout. After that, it was down to the garage, so that he would be on time for patrol with Ben.

But Ben wasn't going to be there. Not ever again. So what was the point of it all?

His communicator went of shrilly at exactly seven thirty-two. The noise made Rook wince. Hadn't had turned that off the day before? He fumbled for it, flicking the power-switch off without looking before dropping it back to his nightstand with a clatter. He was certain that it was either Gwendolyn calling to check up on him or Magister Tennyson there to demand Rook turn in his report on what happened, but as guilty as he felt for ignoring them, he couldn't _handle _it.

The clock continued to track the seconds ticking by. Rook told himself that, at the very least, he would get showered and dressed at eight. He knew that he wouldn't, but what was a little white lie? He had told Ben that they were partners, that they would always have each other's back, and clearly Rook had _lied_. It made his chest tight with frustration and despair.

It was seven forty-four exactly when there was a sharp, banging knock on Rook's door. That was the only warning that he got before it was swung open.

Rook shot up in bed, caught between shock and anger. He was sure that the door was supposed to be locked, not to mention the audacity that someone would have to possess in order to interrupt him after what happened the day before.

He started to shout, demand that the intruder leave, but the words never got past his open mouth. Rook felt his jaw go slack. No. _No, _it wasn't possible. Was he still asleep?

Ben stood in his doorway, silhouetted against the glare of the hallway, and reached over to flip on the light in the room, _as if he wasn't supposed to be dead_. "Rook!" There was a scowl on his face. "What the hell are you doing? First of all, you were late to patrol, and you're _never _late. To anything. I tried calling you, but it cut off after the third ring. I thought that you were being attacked or something! I asked Grandpa and he said that—" He suddenly seemed to take notice of Rook's appearance, upset giving way to concern. "Dude. Did something happen?"

How was Rook supposed to answer that? He felt caught between laughing and crying and punching the wall again. He snapped his jaw shut and, after a moment, managed to wheeze out, "I'm not entirely sure anymore."

Eyes widening, Ben looked at Rook with uncertainty before stepping further into the room. He had never been in Rook's room before, but Ben didn't let that stop him. He plopped himself on the bed right next to where Rook was sitting, as if he had been there a hundred times, and only hesitated a split-second before he set a hand on Rook's bare shoulder.

His hand was warm.

"Look, um, you know whatever's wrong, I'm here for you, Rook," Ben said awkwardly. "I… Okay, I'm awful at comforting people, but whatever this is seems pretty bad. Was it… something from home?" He paused. "Did someone die?"

He was going to have an aneurysm if the conversation was allowed to continue. Rook reached up to brush Ben's hand away, out of habit, and caught himself. He swallowed thickly and, shaking, wrapped his fingers around his partner's wrist. He didn't tighten his hold, afraid that to do so would make Ben disappear, but _terrified _that letting go would mean that he was never there at all.

"Ben," he breathed, "what day is it?"

There was a flicker of genuine worry on Ben's face, like he thought that Rook was going crazy. And, frankly, that was what it felt like. One eyebrow arched, caught between pulling away or staying, Ben nonetheless answered. "Uh, it's Thursday? Remember? The— _mpf_!"

The rest of what Ben was about to say was cut off when Rook suddenly jerked him forward, wrapping his arms around Ben and holding him tightly. He could feel coarse human hair tickling his chin, slender hands impulsively grabbing fistfuls of his fur, warmth pressed against him without armor in the way, and it felt _incredible_.

"Woah, _hey_, Rook!" Ben didn't pull away — thank Brallada — but he lifted his head enough to speak without Rook's fur muffling him and brought his arms up like he was fighting not to instinctively push back. "I'm not opposed to hugs, but seriously, _what the hell_? Are you alright? I-Is something _wrong_?"

Rook shook his head, tucking his face down against the top of Ben's head. It was the first time they had ever hugged and the realization made Rook feel like crying all over again. "No. Nothing is wrong, Ben. I am sorry for worrying you."

It all made sense. The day before had been nothing but a _dream_. A vivid and painful one, no doubt, but Rook couldn't find the words to properly express how _relieved _he was. Ben was alive. He was warm and solid, chest rising and falling with his breathing, pulse pounding to a steady beat, eyes bright and aware. He almost felt like he could kiss Ben, he was _that _glad to know that he'd experienced nothing but a nightmare.

There was a long moment where neither of them moved. Rook knew that he was behaving unusually, getting so worked up over a dream, but it had felt _real_. Startlingly real. He tried to remember the socially acceptable threshold for human hugs, but he was pretty sure that they had passed that about a minute ago. Even though he knew that he ought to, Rook wasn't all that eager to let Ben go. He wanted to remember the warmth of the skin against his fur. Just to remind himself — to prove to himself — that the dream was just that. A bad dream.

But eventually, Ben shifted in a mix of impatience and discomfort and Rook had to concede defeat and let go. He pulled back and let his partner get to his feet, watching blankly as Ben brushed his clothes off seemingly out of habit. A part of him still expected ash to sprinkle off, but there was nothing.

His staring didn't go unnoticed, though. Ben paused mid-motion and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Rook. Dude. Seriously. You can sleep in if you want, I don't care, but _this_?" He gestured between them. "This is really starting to worry me. You keep looking at me like…" A pause, Ben's expression creasing in thought as he searched for the right words. "...like you're not convinced that I'm really here. I don't know what's wrong and I can't help if you aren't going to tell me." He offered Rook his hand anyway, looking endearingly confused. "Would holding my hand help? I don't really want to be hugged all day, if this is going to be a thing."

_Yes_, Rook thought, but shoved the thought away with a scowl. Any other day, he would scoff at the suggestion that he would need to hold someone's hand for comfort. But Rook let the question hang between them, frozen in indecision by the way that Ben was looking at him.

"No," he said finally. But he took Ben's hand anyway, letting himself be pulled to his feet before letting go of his partner as though burned. Rook shook his head. "I apologize for my current state. I will shower and dress. You can wait, uh…" He looked around his small, mostly empty room. "Wherever you like, I suppose. I can always call you." He couldn't call a dead man. Surely, that had to prove something?

Ben still looked far from reassured, but he nodded anyway and affixed a smile to his face. "Uh, yeah! Sure thing, dude. I'll go wait in the garage and then we can get on patrol whenever you're ready, okay?" For a moment, Rook almost thought that Ben was going to set a hand on his shoulder again. But then he shook his head, dismissing the notion, and left.

In the silence of his absence, Rook had to squash down the urge to go after him. Just to make sure that Ben would still be there when looked again. Rook wasn't going crazy, was he?

He shook his head and did his best to put it out of mind — which was all but impossible, but Rook _tried_. On autopilot, he gathered his body suit and armor before going to shower. Maybe the water and steam would make him feel warm again.

He wanted to stand in the shower for hours, not thinking about anything in particular, but Rook instead get himself cleaned and dressed in record time. He didn't even bother brushing his fur out. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Rook knew the reason for his behavior: Ben, of course. There was the irrational fear that, if he wasn't fast enough, Ben would be gone by the time Rook got to the hanger.

Skipping breakfast and his usual morning work out entirely, Rook's fur was still damp when he all but sprinted into the garage. He knew that he had to look unkempt and unprofessional, but all he cared about was spotting a head of brown hair between the uniform rows of Plumber cruisers. His heart was pounding in his throat, somehow convinced of both that Ben would be in the next place he looked and that he wouldn't be there at all. Rook wasn't sure which one scared him more, but he knew which one he _wanted_.

He jogged to the front of the garage, where he parked the Proto-TRUK, and visibly relaxed when he spotted Ben's car next to it. And a second after that, he found Ben, leaning against the DX Mark 10 and scrolling through something on his phone as though all was right with the world. As if he hadn't died in front of Rook less than a day before.

But, no. He hadn't. Rook had to take a deep breath to remind himself that it was just a dream. If he kept acting so weirdly, Ben was going to keep asking, and Rook knew that he would give in and tell Ben what he had seen eventually. It seemed so childish, to be terrified for his best friend's life over a dream, but Rook didn't have the words to express how _real _it felt.

Attempting to fake an appearance of calm, he smoothed his clumping fur back, cursing himself for not brushing it, and approached Ben. Once his footsteps sounded closer, his partner glanced up. There was still worry on his face, but his smile was genuine when he straightened up and put his phone in his pocket. From the other, Ben pulled an object that had Rook freezing in mid-step.

Not noticing, Ben chucked the apple Rook's way and set his hands on his hips. "Catch," he said playfully. "It took you, like, seven minutes to get here so I'm guessing that you didn't stop to eat. Well, you're in luck. Mom's on a fruit juice cleanse this week so we have plenty of fruit to go around. You have no idea what I had to go through to wrestle that away from her without having to send it through the blender first."

Rook said nothing. He turned the apple over in his hands as though looking at a rare jewel. Even what Ben said, it had been so similar to Rook's dream. The apple, the juice cleanse… How could he have known those things before they happened?

"Uh, Rook? You okay, buddy?" Ben's voice startled him from his thoughts. His smile was gone. "It's just an apple. I'm pretty sure that's an Earth fruit you like, right?"

_Brallada_, and Ben thought that the _fruit _was the problem. As if Rook wouldn't eat whatever he wanted them to try.

"I am fine," he lied, taking a bite of the apple as if that proved anything. It tasted wrong. "It simply reminded me of Revonnah for a moment and I got lost in thought. I apologize. Now, we have delayed patrol long enough. We should go." Rook said it because he knew that they had to, and yet, he couldn't help the queasy feeling in his stomach. If they went out on patrol and they got a call about a block of old buildings going up in flames… What was he going to do? Demand that Ben _not _go and help? As if he would ever do that.

Ben shrugged with one shoulder, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked from his car to the Proto-TRUK. "Sure. You know me, Rook. All about patrols," he drawled.

He got into the driver's side but, suddenly, Rook wanted to be anywhere else. He stared blankly at the wheel for a long moment before the reminder of Ben's presence next to him pushed Rook to uncomfortably start the TRUK. Why did he feel like he was making a mistake?

The clock on the dashboard said that it was eight in the morning. Okay. So they were late for their patrol, but they could still get a smoothie so Ben got something to eat. And then…

His grip on the wheel tightened as Rook guided the TRUK out of the garage and through the tunnel system that let out onto one of the less-busy streets of Bellwood. He was still stuck on his dream. There was supposed to be that attempted robbing of a research facility, then the call about the houses on fire, then…

It took all of his willpower to keep from reach over and grabbing Ben's hand. Just to feel the pulse at his wrist. Just to have that solid warmth as a reminder.

He wasn't dreaming. It all felt real. But then, the other day couldn't be a dream either.

Running on auto-pilot, Rook parked the TRUK outside of Mr. Smoothie's. The way that he always did. An action that was so routine, so familiar, that it shouldn't have filled him with such dread as it did. Ben, either not sensing his unease or not wanting to bring it up, hopped smoothly out of the TRUK without hesitation. Rook had barely finished parking and he bit back the age-old urge to chastise Ben for his impatience. Jumping out of a moving car could hurt him but, really, what was a twisted ankle compared to that broken and bloodied corpse he had dug out of the rubble?

"What do you want?" Ben asked once Rook got out of the TRUK. He already had his wallet out and was rifling through his bills to have the money on hand. "They've got new winter flavors, you know. I'll miss the pumpkin spice, but maybe you can get something fruity." He looked up at Rook and the smile on his face was strained.

He was trying to hard to force any degree of normalcy back into their relationship after what Rook had done that morning. Mentally, he berated himself for acting in such a way around Ben. The thought of eating something made his stomach roll but Rook forced a smile and said. "I will have a small strawberry one, Ben. I do not feel like flavor mixing today." Or any day. Rook doubted that he would feel normal ever again.

But he did hang back while Ben ordered and paid for the smoothies, as usual, and selected the same table that they always did. He selected the seat that gave him the best view of Ben and told himself that the Mr. Smoothie building was not about to collapse on him.

It didn't help. Even as Ben came back with two cups, Rook refused to relax, somehow convinced that rubble was going to fall out of the sky and it would be like his dream again.

Ben sat down across from him, saying something that Rook wasn't listening to. He didn't touch the smoothie in front of him, hands folded on the table and eyes fixated on Ben. Some small but very vocal part of Rook's subconscious was convinced that, if he looked away, Ben would disappear. So he focused on the rising and falling of his partner's chest, the animated way Ben gestured with his hands while he prattled on, and the slurping from his smoothie cup because dead things did not eat.

And therefore, Ben couldn't be dead. He _wouldn't _be dead. Rook couldn't take it again.

Their one-sided conversation about Christmas and Ben's upcoming birthday ended without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Rook. He said nothing while they left either, just stayed two steps behind his partner and tossed his untouched smoothie into the trash when he passed. Rook knew that Ben had noticed how he was acting, but he was grateful that questions weren't being asked. _Yet_. As concerned as Ben was, Rook didn't think that he could tell the truth. He didn't know _how_.

For whatever reason, Ben had decided that he wasn't going to ask, probably guessing that Rook didn't want to talk about it.

Still, it was hard to ignore the silence between them once they started on their patrol again and there was nothing to do but stare at the road. Rook spared glances at Ben along the way, watching him alternate between texting and staring out the window. He hated the quiet of the TRUK. It hadn't been so awkward between them since their first few days as partners, where Ben didn't bother trying to hide his distaste for having a partner.

Maybe Rook was overthinking things. It was possible that he was the only one feeling the awkwardness and Ben was perfectly content giving him space. He didn't know and he couldn't ask. Asking would mean opening up the door to talk about _it _and every second that passed made Rook more and more unsure that he was even capable of getting the words out. It sounded ridiculous. He was so off because of a bad dream? Ben wouldn't take that seriously, but… there were no words for Rook to describe how _real _it was, how _certain _he'd been that Ben was gone, how _angry _and _miserable _and _guilty _that realization made him.

That was the crux of it, Rook thought: he had never had to evaluate the extent of his friendship with Ben. It was more than partnership, more than working friends, more than _family_.

The sound of his alert going off was such a relief in the suffocating cabin of the TRUK that Rook almost cried. He snapped his hand out for it immediately, glancing at the time, and his stomach dropped into his feet. It was almost noon and the report was exactly what he was dreading it would be: an explosion had been set off at a research facility and a theft was currently in progress.

He barely heard the caller, hanging up as soon as he got the information. Rook couldn't breathe. _It was happening again. _

No. Anything but _that_.

Suddenly, Ben reached over, yanking the wheel toward him hard. The TRUK jostled as it was jerked onto the road's shoulder, narrowly avoiding slamming into a car stopped at a red light. Reflexively, Rook hit the brakes, snapping forward in his seat. His ears were ringing, but he didn't think that it was due to an injury. How long had Ben been yelling at him for?

Shaking his head, awareness came back to Rook. He felt his white-knuckled grip on the wheel, so tight that it was making his wrists ache. Horns were honking, set off by upset drivers. And Ben was only half in his seat, leaning over Rook and gripping him by the shoulders. There were equal amounts of upset and concern and fear in his eyes. _His eyes_. Rook wished that Ben wouldn't look at him. He wished that those eyes weren't so bright, so passionate, so _green_.

It was a good thing that he hadn't drank that smoothie, else Rook would be sick.

"What happened?" Ben asked, at a normal volume, but the loudness of it in what had been such a quiet cabin made Rook wince. "Rook. Seriously, I… _what happened_? I don't mean now, I mean earlier. What's got you acting like this?" When Rook didn't answer, he hesitated, then continued. "If you want, you can go back to base for today and, like, rest. I can handle this call alone, and—"

"_No!_" Rook shouted completely against his will, grabbing Ben's wrists before he had even thought to move his hands. He choked on his words. There was no way that he was going to let Ben out of his sight. After the failed robbery, there was going to be that fire, and then… But he couldn't tell Ben that he had seen it in a dream. That would never work. "No, I… I am fine, Ben. I do not know what came over me and I apologize for not paying proper attention to the road. It will not happen again," he promised in as even a voice as he could manage.

Ben's eyes were so green that it _hurt_. And they hardened, lips pressing into a displeased line. "No, you're obviously not. Rook, _nothing you've done today _has been normal. Not a single thing! Look at yourself!" He gestured at Rook with an incline of his head. "You realize that your armor pockets aren't even on, right? You didn't even get dressed the way you _always _do!"

With a surprised blink, Rook glanced down to discover that Ben was right. His utility pockets were detachable and he had forgotten to connect them when getting dressed for the day. How had he forgotten that?

Rather than answer Ben, Rook met his partner's glare with a challenging stare of his own and said nothing.

That only made Ben's scowl deepen. "Look, you don't have to tell me. But if you're not going to talk about whatever's got you like this, you should at least go back to base. You aren't in a state for fighting, Rook."

He still hadn't let go of Ben's wrists. "I will," he said after a moment of consideration. Before Ben could think that he had won, Rook added, "I will go back to base if you go with me. And I will go to the attempted robbery if you go. I am still your partner, Ben. You are not getting rid of me today."

Something in his eyes must have shown how serious Rook was about that. Ben was going _nowhere _without Rook for the rest of the day. Possibly the next few weeks, or anytime a fire was involved. His message, remarkably, got through. Rook saw Ben hesitate and that was the moment that he knew he had won.

With a groan of frustration, Ben pulled away and slid back down into his seat with a huff. "Fine," he muttered unhappily. "Just get us to the research building or whatever. But don't think I'm done with this."

Absently, Rook nodded as he returned his hands to the wheel. That was fine. They could have the same conversation over and over and over again if Ben wanted to, but Rook's position on the issue wasn't about to change. It was as though, to him, Ben was only still alive for as long as Rook was around to verify.

When they got back onto the road, the silence in the TRUK returned full-force. That time, Rook was certain that Ben felt the awkwardness too. Neither of them said a word, both stiff as a board. Even though Rook was speeding, it was the single longest drive of his life.

They stopped outside of the research facility in question and, just like in Rook's dream, one of Fistrick's lackeys had already been stopped and the experimental performance enhancers he had tried to steal were successfully recovered. Ben didn't say anything to Rook, merely staring at him hard for a long second before turning back to the half-destroyed building. Even though it wasn't surprising for him to choose Upgrade, it still left Rook rooted in his spot.

The minutes were ticking by. He didn't help with any of the repairs, unable to take his eyes off of Ben as the call he was dreading approached. Half-formed plans ran through his mind. Rook wanted so desperately to keep Ben away from that fire — he could ignore the call, distract Ben until the alerts stopped, concede to going back to base and turn his communicator off — but there were _real _people caught in that fire. How could Rook _knowingly _and _willingly _leave innocents to die just because of a realistic dream he'd had?

He couldn't. And some tiny, dark part of Rook hated it.

As he expected, the barrier holding back the press and bystanders was tipped over and Ben found himself cocooned by cameras and microphones. There was the same excitable fan from before, the same over-eager news anchor, the same Plumber who came to shoo them all away. It was all exactly what Rook didn't want to see.

He tensed when Ben finally came back over to the TRUK. No matter what he chose, the guilt was crushing. To let innocent people possibly die in a fire, or knowingly send Ben into a situation that he couldn't get out of?

Before he could stop himself, Rook put a hand on Ben's shoulder to stop him and blurted out, "You seem upset. What happened over there, with your fans?"

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask about. Ben's face twisted into a grimace and he shrunk away from Rook's touch with discomfort. "Nothing," he said dismissively. "I mean— They're fans. I like my fans. I'm not upset or anything, Rook. I can handle talking to a few cameras." Just as suddenly as it started, Ben's defensiveness was gone and he deflated. "Can we just go?" He muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "We can stop and get chilli fries for lunch. Or you can pick something out, I don't really care."

The offer surprised Rook. Usually, they didn't get lunch together because they both had very different preferences. Ben didn't like alien cuisine, much as Rook tried to get him more accustomed to it. He hesitated. It was tempting to say yes, of course. They could get something to eat, stay far away from any Plumber radios, and yet…

The decision was made for him. Inside the TRUK, Rook heard his radio chime with an incoming emergency call and he winced. Dread made him stiffen, wanting to take hold of Ben and keep him there until someone else could handle it, but his partner was already moving.

There was a protest on Rook's lips as he swung around to the driver's side of the TRUK. Ben already had the passenger door open and was seated, listening intently to the Plumber call. Even before Rook opened the door, he knew what he would hear. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He caught the end of the brief call.

"..._police can handle the fire," _the Plumber over the radio was telling Ben, "_but they can't get everyone out. Do you two_—?"

As if everything was fine, as if he hadn't _died _answering that call just the other day, Ben smirked confidently at the speaker. "Consider us already there. Just send the address." He hung up without waiting for an answer and gave Rook an impatient look. "Hurry up!" He waved his partner into the TRUK and it took up until then for Rook to realize that he hadn't moved. When he came back to himself, he was quick to slide into the driver's seat. "We got a call about a fire in the older part of the city. It sounds like it's getting really out of hand."

He should have said nothing and gone along with it — really, what were the chances of some dream Rook had predicting the future? — but he couldn't help but protest, "Is this really a job for us? It is not Plumber related. Surely the local authorities are already on it."

Ben shot him a glare, disgust interwoven with his surprise. "We save people," he said in such a voice that let Rook know there would be no arguing. "We save people even if they have nothing to do with space or aliens or the Plumbers, no matter who it is. I can't believe you would even—" He shook his head, moving for his seatbelt. "Whatever, Rook. I'll use XLR8 and get there faster, anyway."

With an uncontrollable surge of panic, Rook reached over and clamped down hard on Ben's wrist. "_No!_" He shouted. He knew that his hand was shaking but he wasn't about to let go. "No, I… you are right, Ben. Of course, I… I am not sure what came over me. We will go help. As partners," he said firmly, only slightly calmer than he had been a minute ago.

For a moment, it felt like Ben wanted to protest. He moved his mouth a few times but no sound came out. Finally, giving Rook an odd look, he tugged his wrist free and made no effort to move. "Fine," Ben said. There was an emotion on his face that Rook couldn't place. "Just hurry."

The relief wasn't enough to make Rook relax, but he nodded and released the grip that he had on Ben. He thought that his partner was about to make a break for it anyway but, after a few seconds where neither of them moved, Rook begrudgingly turned back to the wheel. As much as he didn't want Ben near that fire, surely being there with him would be better than letting him go alone.

He turned the TRUK's engine over and peeled away from the curb, swerving onto the street and in between cars. Ignoring all traffic laws, Rook arrived at their destination in barely a minute. Ben was right — XLR8 could have done it faster. The fire was just as it had been in Rook's dream, raging without pause and climbing high enough to flick the sun. Smoke and ash hung heavy in the air. In the middle of the street was the broken power line that had caused it all, still being whipped like the flames in the unforgiving wind.

Rook started to say something, only to look over and realize that Ben was no longer in the TRUK. With a start, he jumped out, jogging the few yards to where his partner was standing. Ben was taking in the scene, a thoughtful look on his face that had Rook's heart plummeting. Just like before, he knew what was coming before Ben even opened his mouth.

"You see what you can do about getting some of those people out of there, Rook," Ben said without looking at him, turning away to flip through the Omnitrix's options. "I'll handle the fire. The sooner that's gone—"

"Actually," Rook cut him off, startling Ben by setting a hand on his shoulder. At least it got his attention. "I would, um, prefer to be the one to handle the fire. Assuming that anyone in the buildings is pinned beneath rubble or trapped by the flames, you are much better suited to those extremes than I am."

Ben's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. Rook swallowed nervously. He would end up talking to Ben about it all later, he knew, but for the moment his partner said, "Fine. I'll see about rescuing people, you do what you can to stop those fires."

He waited until Ben had jogged off before turning to the still-sparking wire in the middle of the road. Rook grimaced. The fire wasn't his concern at all. Buildings could be replaced. People couldn't. And if Ben died in his dream because he had been electrocuted and caught off guard, then Rook would remove that threat. For his own peace of mind, if nothing else.

He ignored the fires behind him, instead facing the electrical wire in the street and frowning in thought. At the very least, if he could coat the sparking end and stick it to the pavement, there would be no risk of anyone being electrocuted. Rook wasn't sure if the Proto-Tool had a function for that, though. An energy shield would only make the pulses stronger, his laser wouldn't accomplish anything good, drenching it with his little hose was _definitely _a bad idea…

Maybe Rook had made the wrong call in asking Ben to handle something else. He could have simply made sure that his partner chose an electrical alien and left it at that.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of pounding feet. Alarmed, Rook looked up, and was even more stressed to see Ben running toward him — obviously not in an alien form and obviously not doing anything to rescue civilians.

"_What are you doing?_" Rook couldn't help the pitch in his volume. His thoughts were a long stream of curses. "Ben, this is not what we agreed upon! You should not be here!"

"Yeah, and neither should you!" Ben snapped back impatiently. "I knew that you didn't know what to do! You've been acting weird all day and I wasn't expecting _this _to be any different. Rook, _for the last time_, just go back to base! I can handle this by myself and you're going to end up getting someone killed like this."

Rook was going to retort, but he couldn't. All he saw was the bloodied and battered corpse of his partner on the ground.

Maybe Ben sensed that he had hit a sore spot or maybe he was just going to insist again that Rook leave, but either way, he opened his mouth. Whatever he was about to say never got out. The building next to them groaned and Rook felt his stomach drop into his knees.

Caught off guard, Ben looked up at the four-story building. His eyes widened as he realized that it was beginning to tilt under the force of the fire and the wind both. He went to slap the Omnitrix, but Rook didn't give him the chance,

On autopilot, he grabbed Ben by the wrist and yanked him hard out of the way. Rook didn't turn to look back, running as fast as he possibly could. _It was happening again_.

"Rook!" Ben grunted out his name and, unable to keep up, his hand slipped free of the iron grip that Rook had on it.

He cursed loudly and swung around, but by that point, it was too late. Ben spared on look at the building, seconds from collapsing, and swiveled around to Rook. That was worse, somehow — being close enough to see all of those emotions pass over Ben's face in only a moment. There was desperation, anger, sadness, and then acceptance. Before Rook to even think to say something, Ben planted both hands on his chest and shoved Rook as far out of the way as he could.

Surprised, Rook stumbled back and tripped over a crack in the road, hitting the ground hard. He winced as fallen rubble spilled out over his feet and legs, shielded from the worst of it by his armor. Even if he hadn't been, Rook doubted that he would have been able to feel the pain through the adrenaline pounding through him. He lurched back up onto his knees. "_Ben_!"

And there was his hand. Fingers, caked in soot and ash, twitched from between chunks of brick and plaster. If Rook strained, he could almost hear Ben groaning. He frantically darted forward, shoving rubble out of the way like a man possessed. Rook knew he was hyperventilating, but _Ben was alive_, and if he was going to stay that way, he needed to get out of the street and into an ambulance.

It seemed like every time Rook moved a piece of the building, another one tumbled down to fill in the gap. He was chucking bricks in every direction, completely uncaring for the audience or any onlookers. Rook almost cried when he finally, _finally _moved enough of the building out of the way to hook his hands under Ben's arms and pull him free of the rubble.

As soon as he had, Rook winced. It didn't look good. Ben had an ugly, bloody gash on the back of his head where he'd been hit on the way down. One of his legs was mangled, the leg of his pants torn away to reveal a mess of hanging skin and what Rook hoped wasn't bone.

He knelt down, trying to keep Ben comfortable, and cupped the back of his neck to keep pressure off of that head gash. Rook tapped Ben's cheek lightly with his thumb. "Don't do this to me. Not again. _Please, please, please…_" He muttered like a prayer. Ben's chest was still rising and falling, but only barely. At his wrist, the Omnitrix was sparking and glowing bright enough that it hurt to look at. It didn't look damaged, but Rook was too preoccupied with Ben's physical state to worry about the finicky device. He didn't dare shake his partner when he had a head injury, but Rook couldn't keep from shouting. "Ben! Please, _open your eyes_!"

And then, miraculously, they did. Ben's eyelids fluttered. He opened his mouth as though to groan, but not a sound came out. Slowly, his eyes opened. They looked at Rook, but didn't see him, out of focus and the color dimmed as though someone had put a film in front of Ben's eyes. They didn't close, but they stopped moving entirely.

Rook felt his heart stop. He anxiously bent down to press his ear against Ben's chest, grabbing his partner's wrist with his other hand. In both cases, he didn't feel or hear any heartbeat. _No. _No, Rook _refused _to drag Ben from the rubble just to let him die in his arms.

He set Ben down flat on the ground and pressed both hands over his chest. Breathing heavily with the effort, Rook pushed down as hard as he dared. He knew that humans were fragile, but a broken rib was better than death, wasn't it? His eyes were blurring with tears, but Rook didn't need to see to count out thirty quick compressions. He paused to grab Ben's chin, lifting his head up to press their mouths together and gave two hard rescue breaths. Nothing. He cursed, loudly, and resumed the compressions.

"_Ben, please_," Rook begged, frantic. "Please breathe. You can't do this, you can't die. I'll _never _forgive you if you die on me now." Two more breaths. Thirty compressions. Two more breaths. Still nothing.

He was pushing harder, more and more desperate. _Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… _Then there was a loud crack and a rush of air came out of Ben's mouth that had nothing to do with breathing. Slowly, horrified, Rook removed his hands and looked to Ben. For all of his attempts at CPR, there was no change to his partner. Green eyes remained open and vacant, lips parted, skin already losing its color. Despite it all, Ben didn't look like he was in pain. In his final moments, he was almost serene.

Rook wished that he could say the same about himself.

He turned away from Ben and bent over himself, convulsing as he dry heaved between his legs. Nothing came up, so Rook couldn't call it vomiting. His mouth burned with bile that he choked down, rubbing at his damp eyes until they were dry and stinging. It felt as though he was trying to vomit out his insides. And Rook almost wanted to — maybe if he did, he wouldn't feel like _he _was the one who had died.

Unlike in his dream, when the Plumber-issued ambulances arrived, Rook didn't stick around. He brushed by all of them without a word, listening as they found Ben and loaded him up, but refusing to watch. A few tried to call out to Rook. He didn't acknowledge them and no one tried to follow him.

He was certain that driving in his current state was a bad idea, but Rook was devoid of the ability to care. When he started the TRUK's engine, he almost hit someone because he had put it into reverse instead of drive. It didn't concern him. He corrected the mistake and slammed on the gas, as though he could somehow travel fast enough that he wouldn't have to think about what he was leaving behind. But it was all that Rook could see or think, all that consumed his thoughts. The Omnitrix wasn't supposed to let Ben die, so why did it?

_Why did Rook let him die again_?

Arriving at the Plumber base, Rook was only saved from crashing thanks to a year of ingrained habits. He was barely seeing the road. As a matter of fact, when he parked in the garage and sank back in his seat, he couldn't remember any of the drive at all.

The panic never faded, but it was as though Rook had grown numb to it. As though he was feeling it through someone else's body. On shaky legs, Rook left the TRUK. He only barely remembered to grab his keys and lock it. He wished that he had just stayed sitting in the driver's seat, though. Because parked next to the Proto-TRUK, looking like it had come straight off the showroom floor, was Ben's car. Still there. Untouched, almost perversely so.

He wasn't aware of the desire to move, only that Rook suddenly found himself standing next to Ben's car. His hand hovered over the hood, but he didn't dare touch it. That shade of green was making him sick. The color of Ben's jacket, of the Omnitrix, of his eyes…

Rook's mind was short-circuiting. He couldn't reconcile the terrified, wide-eyed look of Ben being crushed beneath a crumbling building with the acceptance Rook had seen as the light in Ben's eyes slowly dimmed. Two deaths. One person. Exactly as heart-wrenching as it had been the first time.

His thoughts ended there, interrupted as a fist connected with Rook's jaw and sent him to the ground on hands and knees.

"_How could you?_" Someone shouted, or shrieked, more aptly. Rook recognized the voice, but it still took him looking up to see Kevin looming over him to make the connection between the statement and the bruise forming along his jaw. Distantly, Rook wondered how long he had been standing there, alone in the garage. Kevin looked like he wanted to hit Rook again and was only barely restraining himself. "This is all your goddamn fault! You were supposed to protect him! You're his shitting _partner_! How could you let this happen?"

Kevin drew his leg back for a kick. Though Rook didn't make any attempt to dodge or stop him, the blow never landed. A magenta mana shield sprung up between them and Kevin's leg bounced off of it with a dull thud. He shouted in frustration and punched the shield, whirling behind him to glare at his girlfriend.

"I told you not to follow me!" Kevin snapped at Gwendolyn. On normal days, the look on her face could immediately shut him up, but Kevin wasn't in a rational mindset. Rook couldn't blame him. "It's _his fault _that Ben is _dead_! You know, I know it, _he knows it_! This is the least that he deserves. Don't try to stop me!"

"Enough, Kevin! We aren't doing this right now!" Gwendolyn shot right back. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her face was puffy. It looked like any moment she might burst into tears, but she faced Kevin firmly anyway. "Punching Rook isn't going to fix anything."

They could have argued for hours, but Kevin's response was cut off by a whimper. Surprised, they both turned to see Rook, still on the ground. He had curled over himself, pressing one hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet as his vision blurred with tears and his throat constricted around involuntary sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered, because any louder and he knew his voice would crack. "You're right. It's all my fault. Ben is… He's not…"

The mana shield was dropped and Gwendolyn fell to her knees at Rook's side. She threw her arms around his shoulders, clutching him as tightly as she could with his armor in the way. He felt her lips move against his fur as she started to speak, but Kevin beat her to it.

"It should've been you." Spoken with such conviction that Rook didn't think to protest it.

At his side, Gwendolyn went absolutely rigid. She did nothing for several achingly long seconds. Then, finally, she let out a shaky breath against Rook's ear and stood. Grabbing his hands, she tugged him to his feet alongside her, an arm around Rook's back to support him even though he didn't need help to walk.

"Let's get you to your room," she coaxed. "You should rest, Rook. We'll all feel a lot calmer in the morning." Gwendolyn didn't look at Kevin as they passed him. If she had, Rook wasn't sure that even she knew what she might do. Either way, Kevin didn't try to stop them or follow, and they left the garage leaning on each other. Not for physical support, as Rook had first thought, but so that neither of them had to hide their tears alone.

Somehow, Gwendolyn knew where his room was. Rook might have told her, but everything felt fuzzy and other-worldly. He was still crying, but the sobbing had stopped. There was no indignancy or anger — not after what Kevin had said.

He was right. It was Rook's fault. It should have been him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated once Gwendolyn shut his bedroom door behind them. She nudged him over to the bed and Rook sat without protest. "I was right there. I should have… When I gave him CPR… It should have turned out differently. The only reason Ben is..." Rook still couldn't bring himself to say "_dead," _"...is because I failed him."

Gwendolyn didn't respond at first. She found the clasps for Rook's chest plate and released it, systematically stripping the pieces of his armor down until Rook was left in his sleek, black bodysuit. It didn't make him feel any lighter.

"It's not your fault," she said eventually, through pursed lips. "What Kevin said… It was way over the line. He's hurting right now, Rook. I'm sorry that he took it out on you."

Slowly, Rook shook his head. "Why aren't you angrier?" He breathed. "How can you forgive me for this?"

"I just told you. It's not your fault." Gwendolyn bent over to be at eye-level with him and set a comforting hand on his knee. He had no idea what sort of expression she was making — Rook couldn't bear to make eye-contact with her. "And even if it was, I would still forgive you. It's what Ben would want."

Rook swallowed hard, but there was still a lump in his throat. He twisted around and laid down across his bed, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to see her. "You're wrong," Rook muttered. "It is my fault. It's all because of me. Because I didn't… You shouldn't forgive me."

He heard Gwendolyn sigh, most likely going to continue trying to prove her point, but Rook didn't hear it. By the time she found her words, he was already asleep.

* * *

**A/N: The ending for this fic is still a long way off. I have two possible conclusions in mind, so tell me what you guys think: they're both depressing as hell, but one of them has a hopeful note and the other is only misery. Comment your thoughts so I can plan accordingly. **


	3. this whole damn city thinks it needs you

_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü—_

Rook knocked his alarm clock off of the nightstand as he sat up with a jolt. It clattered to the ground and broke with a crash, but he didn't care. Again, he had been woken by an alarm that he hadn't set and, again, Rook was wearing pajamas that he hadn't put on.

So, did that mean…?

In a hopeful panic, Rook sprung out of bed. He grabbed his Proto-Armor and struggled into his body suit before pulling it on. He thought about showering, but couldn't be bothered. There was something far more important on his mind.

Barely three minutes after getting out of bed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Rook was sprinting down the hall. He barely passed anyone and didn't stop the entire way to the garage. Once there, he noticed that Ben's car was gone which, again, only reinforced what he already suspected. He jumped into the Proto-TRUK and jammed the keys in, turning the ignition and peeling out of the Plumber base at speeds that definitely would have gotten him in trouble if anyone had been around to see.

It was five in the morning, so the streets of Bellwood were clear. Which was good, because Rook didn't stop at any of the red lights and the last thing that he wanted was to cause a car wreck. He told himself it was because he didn't want to hurt civilians, which was true, but that was only his second thought. His first priority was getting to Ben as quickly as possible.

Arriving outside of the Tennyson home, Rook parked the TRUK haphazardly, half on the sidewalk, and only just remembered to turn the engine off and put it in park before getting out. He ran up to the front door and knocked. Although, "knocking" was far more polite than what Rook was actually doing, which was banging on the wood as hard as he could with his fist and barely resisting the urge to scream.

A light inside flicked on and Rook dropped his hand, heart in his throat. If he was wrong, he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it…

The door swung open to reveal Carl Tennyson, squinting at Rook through his tiredness and wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe with matching slippers. "Rook?" He asked, confused. "What are you doing here? It's five in the morning. Ben's shift with you doesn't start for another couple of hours."

He caught on a breath. That confirmed it — if Ben was dead, Carl wouldn't have implied that they had a shift together soon. Normally, Rook had the highest respect for Ben's parents, but he really didn't have the patience for it at the moment. He was already0 contemplating shoving the man out of the way to get to Ben's room. "Apologies, sir," he responded reflexively. "I need to see Ben immediately. It is an emergency. Is he—?"

"Dad?" Ben's voice interrupted him and Rook froze. His partner wandered out of the hallway that led to his room, wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts with his hair mussed from sleep and muffling a yawn. "What's going on? Someone at the door?"

"Um, yes." Carl nodded. "Rook, he was—"

The man chose that moment to step back from the door, probably to give Ben a clear view of his partner, but Rook took the opportunity. He rushed forward, nearly knocking Carl over in the process. Ben had just long enough to look surprised before Rook wrapped his arms around him, embracing Ben tightly. He tucked his partner's head under his chin, taking in the feeling of soft, human hair tickling his fur. It was an even split between crying or sinking to the ground with Ben still in his arms, but Rook managed to resist both of them.

"Oh, _Brallada_…" He breathed, and Rook felt all of the tension drain from his body. "You're alive. Ben. You're _alive_. I thought… I was so sure that you…"

Rook cut himself off there, unable and unwilling to finish. He suddenly bent over, breaking the hug only to press his ear against Ben's chest. Sure enough, Rook heard the steady thumping of a heart. And he couldn't be sure without an x-ray machine, but it didn't feel like Ben had any broken ribs. He was _alive_.

Again.

The moment was broken when Ben shifted in Rook's hold, obviously uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, I'm alive. Last I checked, anyway. Do you think you could let go? Or, like, loosen your grip at all there, dude?"

With a start, Rook finally noticed that the grip he had on Ben's forearms was bruisingly tight. He quickly dropped his hands, taking a step back. "Yes. Of course. I apologize, Ben, I…" Rook trailed off again.

He stared at Ben instead, taking in everything that proved his partner was alive. Standing up and talking to him was a good indicator, but Rook was enthralled with the rise and fall of Ben's chest as he breathed, the slight part of his lips on every exhale, the nervous habits that kept him from standing completely still.

A full minute passed in complete silence before, awkwardly clearing his throat, Carl shut the front door and walked over to Ben. He still looked unsure and confused but clapped a hand on his son's shoulder with a smile that was genuine. "Do you have everything under control here?" He asked quietly.

Ben gave a nod. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. You can go back to bed if you want."

Nothing more was said between them. Carl ruffled Ben's hair before disappearing down the hall, back to bed with his wife.

Alone with Ben, Rook wasn't sure what to say. He knew that he ought to explain himself after showing up so early in the morning and waking Ben, but with the confirmation that his partner was alive, Rook suddenly felt ridiculous. It was just a dream. There was no reason to panic. But it was odd that he had had the same dream twice in a row and not a day had passed in between them.

It was quiet for a moment. Rook could hear Ben's parents settling back into bed through the thin walls. Once things were quiet from their room, Ben sighed. "Are you okay, Rook?" He asked, tired but still honestly concerned. "You used a contraction. Twice. And you hugged me," he pointed out.

The fact that hugging Ben was as rare as a contraction for him made Rook wince. Were they really that distant in their friendship? Was _he _really that distant?

"Yes," Rook agreed absently. "I did." He said nothing else.

He was grateful for the silence, however tense it was, though it didn't last long. Ben frowned, looked Rook up and down, and arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me _why_?" He pressed. "It's five in the morning, Rook. I figured you would have an explanation."

An explanation was an awful lot to ask for. Mostly because Rook still didn't really know how he was going to deliver one. Ben deserved one, eventually, but for the moment… Rook tried to move his lips but nothing came out. The words had dried up. What was he going to say? That a nightmare had driven him to his best friend's house at five in the morning like the world was ending? That he had been about ready to break down in tears at the sight of Ben alive and well? That Rook was memorizing the sight of him — bedhead and old pajamas in all their glory — because a part of him was still convinced that Ben would disappear if he looked away?

Instead, all he could do was shake his head. Rook looked down at his feet, ashamed. "I am not ready to talk about it," he muttered. "I apologize for waking you and your parents, Ben. I will see myself out and leave you to sleep." Not that he would go far. It sounded a little obsessive, even to him, but Rook wasn't sure if he could bare pulling the Proto-TRUK away from the curve if Ben wasn't in the passenger seat.

He didn't get the chance to turn away. Ben closed the few feet of distance between them to set a hand on Rook's arm. The touch brought upon the sudden, ridiculous thought that Rook would have liked to be wearing something other than his armor so that he could feel it properly.

"You don't have to talk about it, dude." Ben muffled a yawn with his free hand, brushing his bangs back and staring at Rook with still-bleary eyes. He scrutinized his partner for a moment, then said, "Look, if you're upset or whatever… That's fine. You can hang out a little if you don't want to be alone or something. I know you don't have a lot of options for hangouts on Earth." He smiled and dropped his hand, letting his hair hang in front of his eyes again. "Wanna watch TV? It's a Thursday morning so there's probably nothing good on, but you can probably find something bearable if you click through channels long enough."

Watching Earth TV sounded about as enjoyable as watching paint dry, which was an apt comparison because Rook had done both of those things. But Ben was practically _handing him_ an excuse to stay and Rook would have to be brain dead to refuse. His answer barely required even a moment of thought.

"Yes. Please." Rook paused. "I… thank you for the offer, is what I meant. That would be much better, Ben." Internally, he winced at his response.

Blessedly, Ben didn't call him out on it. He smiled, a little forced and a little tired, but mostly earnest. And that was the important part. Ben dropped the hand that had been on Rook's arm and walked over to the couch. He swiped the remote off of the coffee table and plopped down on one side while Rook sat down more gently on the other end. The remote was tossed in his general direction and Rook caught it without having to think about it.

"Alright, dude. The TV's all yours." Ben gestured at the screen in front of them with a sweep of his arm. He had already scrunched up into the corner of the couch, reclining enough to put one foot up on Rook's knee while the other stayed on the ground. It looked like he was seconds from falling asleep again. "Go crazy. Seriously, I won't judge. Just don't try to watch anything that asks for a credit card payment."

Looking away from Ben suddenly felt like it was asking for too much. He had his arms crossed over his chest, head propped up against the arm of the couch. Ben just looked so relaxed. Rook kept trying to line up the current image of his best friend with the corpse he had held, touched, as real as anything in his arms. He couldn't do it. Were they the same person? It made no sense — it wasn't plausible — that Ben Tennyson could ever be dead. That he ever _had _been, that Rook had _seen _it, continued to baffle him to no end.

When Rook still hadn't made a move to turn the TV on, Ben glanced over at him and arched an eyebrow. There was a smile on his face but only put there in an attempt to hide his confusion and worry. "Do you need me to show you how to work a TV remote?" He joked. When that didn't garner a reaction, Ben frowned. "Why are you staring at me?"

Rook hurriedly looked away. "It was nothing. I thought that I saw a spider on the wall behind you, but it was simply a shadow." The lie slipped out smoothly, much more easily than it should have. Ben didn't even twist around to check. He just nodded, accepting Rook's words as truthful and trusting them. The mere idea of "trust" stung like bile, all the way down his throat. Wasn't Rook a hypocrite to speak of trust, as if he had any idea what it meant.

He said nothing else and Ben seemed content with the silence. Rook turned the TV on and, before he could convince himself not to, set his other hand on Ben's ankle. It seemed fair to him, he thought. If Ben could put his foot up on Rook's knee, then he could rest his hand there. It was a simple touch that shouldn't have been as nerve-wracking as it was. Rook was wearing his armor and Ben had socks on, so there wasn't even the possibility of bare-skin contact. It didn't matter, though. Just having that weight, the little shifts every time Ben adjusted his position, helped Rook to relax. He kept his eyes firmly glued on the TV but didn't take any of it in. He wasn't even sure what he was watching.

Dead bodies didn't move. Ben was alive. They were both _fine_.

Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Rook was aware of time passing. The sun was rising, though the living room windows were only on one wall and angled in such a way that Rook couldn't see the eastern horizon. Light filtered into the room and birds called. Rook muted the TV without really thinking about it, head tilted to listen. Funny. He hadn't seen a sunrise since he left Revonnah. Every morning and every night was steel walls, standard living quarters, and pitch blackness.

Something possessed him to stand. Rook glanced over at Ben, but he had fallen asleep some time ago. Considering how tired he had been, Rook wasn't surprised. He lifted Ben's foot up and gently set it on the ground next to his other one before getting up. The couch shifted without his weight but Ben didn't so much as stir.

He crossed the room to the large windows, pushing the lacy curtains out of the way to glance outside. The view shouldn't have been anything special. It was a typical suburban neighborhood, with cookie-cutter houses all in a row and white-picket fences that stretched as far as the eye could see. Rook had seen it dozens of times before, picking Ben up in the morning. He watched a squirrel run up a tree and saw the top of the sun breaking the horizon. Humans always likened the sunrise to new beginnings and unimaginable possibilities. To Rook, such a thing sounded ridiculous. He turned away from the window and paused.

The TV was still on, playing a muted infomercial for some sort of cleaning product. Ben had sunk further into the couch, arms slackened at his sides and his legs stretched out on the ground in front of him. His head was lolling back, mouth parted. There was a bit of drool down his chin and he wasn't snoring, exactly, but made soft huffing sounds with every breath. The way that the rising sun hit him, Rook had the curious idea that he understood. It was a new day. There were limitless chances.

The dreams were a very clear sign. No matter what, Ben was going to live through the day. He was going to see tomorrow's sunrise. And maybe he'd groan and complain about Rook driving over to his house and hauling him out of bed to watch the sky for a few minutes, but it would be worth it. At least Ben would be there. Anything was better than his silence.

It took Rook a long time to convince himself to look away from Ben. He pulled his communicator out of his pocket (ones that he had remembered to attach, unlike in his second dream) and checked the time. It was barely seven in the morning. Resolutely, Rook turned it off and put his communicator away. He could blow off patrol for one day, he reasoned. It would be worth Magister Tennyson's upset if Ben never even heard about that fire.

The thought of all of those people in the fires made Rook's insides twist into knots. He couldn't find a way to justify that to himself, so he didn't try. He did his best to put it out of mind. Later, the guilt would eat Rook alive, but he would take it over the crushing emptiness of having to face Ben's death for the third time.

He sat back down on the couch, careful not to jostle Ben. It didn't seem necessary to be overly careful, though. Ben was fast asleep. It felt like something that he really needed.

Deeper in the house, from the direction that the bedrooms were in, Rook heard an alarm go off. He smiled faintly to himself. Seven o'clock exactly. It was just like Ben to set an alarm that only left himself with fifteen minutes to get showered and dressed. No wonder he was always leaving the house without breakfast.

He was considering getting up to turn it off himself, but then there was the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the alarm shutting off. Soft, padding steps were muffled by the hallway carpet and Sandra Tennyson stepped into the living room wearing a sleep robe over fluffy pajamas, feet tucked into bunny slippers. She arched an eyebrow at Rook and Ben on the couch, but broke off to yawn and continued to the kitchen without breaking stride.

"Good morning, Rook," she said warmly. "You were here early. Did something happen?"

Thankfully, she had her back to the couch, so she didn't have to see Rook wince. Just the other day, he had been contemplating how to tell her that her son was dead. And she wanted to ask if "something happened."

He pulled himself back together and shook his head. "No, Mrs. Tennyson. Nothing is the matter." Rook paused and, tentatively, forced out the closest thing to the truth that he could stomach saying, "I merely wanted to see Ben." Wanted to see him alive and breathing, with his own eyes, just to verify.

The floor plan of the Tennyson household left them with an open kitchen and dining room, so Rook didn't need to strain to hear Sandra at all. Even as he spoke to her, his gaze was lingering on Ben. It had suddenly occurred to Rook that, so long as he was asleep, he could stare at Ben for as long as he wanted without anyone around to call him creepy for it. Not that it was any less creepy, but at least no one else had to see.

"That's sweet of you," Sandra replied distantly, like she hadn't really heard. "Shouldn't you wake him up? His alarm just went off and you have patrol together, don't you?"

Something in her tone made Rook's throat close up. He wondered if he ever could have had that with his parents — the casualness that came with true acceptance. When he had first met Sandra and Carl, Rook hadn't been able to believe that they really, genuinely supported their son risking his life, day in and day out. But they did. They were so proud of Ben, so happy just to see that he was happy, so unwavering and unconditional, and…

Rook blinked away the stinging sensation in his eyes and sighed. "I suppose that I should." A pause, from both of them. There was no sound from the kitchen. "But things have been quiet recently. There are plenty of Plumbers stationed here already. Permitting Ben a few more hours of sleep doesn't seem unreasonable to me." If Ben could sleep the whole day away, that would be just perfect for Rook.

It was just a chuckle but, somehow, the noise that Sandra made was both amused and approving at the same time. "In that case, you might want to take him back to his room and lay him down. I'm going to start the blender soon and I think that thing could wake the dead."

Ah, right. Her juice cleanse. For some reason, the thought didn't alarm Rook. He was more concerned with the idea that he had had the same dream twice, without having any time awake in-between. It didn't feel like a dream but, then, what could it be? It felt like Rook was missing something just out of reach.

"I can carry him," Rook responded with a sigh. He stood up and hesitated, looking down at Ben. The last time he had held his partner, in that position, it hadn't been because Ben was sleeping. The memory — blood and plaster matting his hair, the unnatural angle of his bent leg, the gentle sound of air leaving his lungs for the last time — made Rook wince.

From the kitchen, Sandra said something in response but Rook was no longer listening. He bent over, slid one arm under Ben's knees and curled the other behind his back. Before he could change his mind, Rook hefted him up. He was surprised at the solidness of Ben in his arms. In the back of his mind, Rook had imagined that Ben wouldn't weigh very much. And he didn't, technically. But that wasn't really what had caught Rook off-guard. It was the sturdiness of holding another person, the intimacy of Ben shifting and tucking his face against Rook's neck.

It felt dirty. After what he had witnessed just the day before (two days before?), Rook didn't feel right holding Ben as though he was something precious. As though Rook might actually be able to protect him. He grimaced. At least the movement hadn't woken Ben up.

Turning toward the hall, Rook took care not to hit Ben against the walls as he turned corners. He knew where his partner's room was, but not because he had ever been there. The first time he had visited, Ben had half-heartedly gestured down the hall and, sure enough, the door at the very end was his disaster of a bedroom.

There were shelves and cubbies with collectibles stacked on top of and inside of them, spilling out into the mess of trash on the floor. Books and discarded papers and empty Mr. Smoothie cups dotted the carpet. Posters clung crookedly to the walls and blankets were hung up along the ceiling.

Rook stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it in. The bedroom was exactly what he had expected and, yet, it made him uneasy. It felt as though he was trespassing somehow.

He shook the thought away and crossed the room to Ben's bed. As gently as he could, Rook laid his partner down and stretched him out. The blanket was hanging sideways off the bed away, so Rook threw one end over Ben and called it good. Sunlight scattered threw his open blinds, dangerously close to the bed, so Rook walked over and shut them as quietly as possible. After a moment's thought, he went ahead and shut Ben's bedroom door, too. There would be no light or sounds waking Ben up until he was ready.

Despite himself, Rook's eyes caught on something. He didn't want to snoop or pry, but Ben was asleep and an increasingly vocal part of Rook felt intruding to be staring at him while he was sleeping. Hanging above the foot of Ben's bed on a hook was a worn letterman jacket, an obnoxious shade of green with the number "10" printed boldly over the heart.

Obviously, Rook knew what it was. He had seen pictures of Ben wearing it plenty of times before, both from Gwen or Kevin and in his history textbooks at the Plumber Academy. He approached it before he could change his mind, running his fingers lightly along the stitching. Seeing the jacket, Rook felt his chest tighten painfully. The entire room was hard to look at. It was Ben's room. And it was so full of life. Pictures of him with friends and family, years of collecting for the franchises he loved, dirty and scuffed and lived in, in a way that Rook's bare room at the Plumber base would never be.

Ben had so much going for him. He always had. And yet, he had died. Twice. And Rook had watched, useless right to the very end.

He dropped his hand away from the jacket and sank down into Ben's desk chair. Propping his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, Rook faced the bed and closed his eyes. He could dimly hear Sandra moving around the kitchen and Carl getting into the shower, but mostly, he could hear Ben's breathing. And weird dreams or not, that would have to be enough for Rook.

It would hopefully be a few hours until Ben woke up. Rook was hoping that he would sleep through the fire entirely. And, sure, it would be a little boring to have to wait for him but Rook found that he didn't really care. He could handle being bored for a short time if it meant that Ben would be alright. Besides, Rook didn't want to be anywhere else. He slumped back in the chair and waited for time to slowly pass.

At some point, Rook must have dozed off. One second he was sitting with his head propped up, eyes partly closed, and the next he was shooting up in the desk chair, startled awake by the sound of a loud thump.

There was groaning but, even so, it took Rook several seconds to reorient himself and shake the sleep off. When he did, he immediately found that Ben's bed was empty. His heart skipped a beat, panic flooding Rook's thoughts, before he turned his head slightly and found the source of the groaning. Ben had landed hard on the carpet, on his side, with his legs tangled in his blankets. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Without thinking about it, Rook was on his feet. He knelt next to Ben, propping him up into a sitting position and pushing the blankets away without care for the mess it would make. "Ben," he muttered, "are you alright?"

The reverence in his voice must have gone unnoticed. Ben snapped out a curse under his breath and sighed heavily, pulling away from Rook into an unsupported slouch. He took a moment, collecting himself, and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just woke up really suddenly and saw what time it was and freaked out." He gestured at his alarm clock, which read a clear and unmistakable twelve-ten. Dragging a hand through his hair, Ben grabbed hold of his bed and used it to climb to his feet. "Sorry, Rook. I don't even remember falling asleep. I usually don't sleep this late, either." He paused, considering something, then glanced back at Rook and frowned. "Did you put me in bed?"

Put on the spot, Rook tensed, prepared to deny it. The word "_no"_ was on the tip of his tongue but, then, Rook wasn't sure why he was so adamant against the idea. Would Ben find it weird? Did it really matter? Was it even worth refusing? Rook was tired of lying. Of hiding.

"Yes," he said finally. "You fell asleep during a commercial. I thought that you would like to be in bed."

A pause. Rook almost asked if that was alright with Ben _(Did he care that Rook was in his room? Was being carried something that bothered him? If he was upset, was it because of the vulnerability or the fact that it was Rook?)_ but held himself back. He didn't need to ask permission to take care of Ben. Much as he wanted to. Much as he probably should.

Since when had he wanted to "take care" of his partner?

In the end, Ben shook his head with barely a moment's thought. "Nah, it's fine." He shrugged dismissively and turned to his dresser. "We're really late for patrol, though. Damn. Just give me a few minutes to shower and get dressed, then we can head out. Better late than never, you know?" He tucked a bundle of clothes under his arm and turned back to Rook, nudging his dresser closed with his hip. "You can chill out here if you want. Just don't touch any of my Sumo Slammers collectibles. Trust me, I'll know if you do," he joked. Without further preamble, Ben turned and left the room.

The door was closed behind him and Rook was alone. He had a twitchy urge to go after Ben — in case he slipped in the shower or hit his head on the tiles or was ambushed by one of his many recurring enemies — and had to violently shove the thought away. He was _not _desperate enough to follow Ben to the shower. He was fine. He was alive. He showered perfectly fine every other day of his life.

Then again, he did his hero work fine every other time. All it took was one mistake. One lapse in Rook's judgment, his capabilities as a partner, and…

A thud from the hall caught Rook's attention. He looked toward the door, worried that Ben had somehow found a way to hurt himself while showering after all, but didn't go any further with his paranoia. The door was shoved open with a bang and Ben stumbled in, tugging his shirt over his head. His hair was bone dry, so he hadn't showered. Rook's stomach sank with dread. _No, there was no way…_

But before Ben had even opened his mouth, Rook had his answer in the form of the Omnitrix's brighter-than-normal glow. Someone had called Ben. Probably Magister Tennyson or another Plumber, asking for his help. It was time. The fire would be in full swing. And if Ben went and tried to help, like he was clearly planning to, then he would die. It didn't matter if Rook had only seen it in a dream. He knew it to be a fact. There was a clammy feeling racing down his spine that was telling him to tie Ben down to the bed if he had to.

"Rook, Grandpa Max just called," Ben said in a breathless rush. He was in a hurry, continuing without even registering the deathly look on Rook's face. "There's a fire downtown, a pretty bad one. He said that it's getting way out of hand. They need us. And…" There, something made Ben hesitate. His urgency ebbed away, just a little, and he stared at Rook as though looking at someone else. "...he said that he called you several times and went straight to voicemail every try. You never turn your communicator off. Rook… Is something wrong? Really? First this morning and now…" Ben frowned. "What are you hiding from me?"

It would have been so easy to lie. Really, Rook could have. He could have said that it was nothing, that he had accidentally turned it off instead of putting his communicator to sleep. Then they could leave together and go to that fire, and Ben would… A lie would be easier to accept, but it would accomplish nothing. Ben would still leave to go save the day, like he always did. It seemed to Rook that he was incapable of doing anything else.

So he took a deep breath and, steeling himself, closed the distance between them to grab Ben by the shoulders. It had to be uncomfortable, the way that his hands were digging in, but Ben didn't so much as wince. He stared up at Rook with big, confused eyes that were so green that it hurt.

"You can't go to that fire, Ben," Rook said seriously. The contraction startled him badly enough that, even as his mouth opened to protest, Ben froze and remained silent. "I've seen this day before, twice now, in a dream. Twice is too much to be a coincidence, especially for something as significant as this. I can even tell you the location of that fire. I can tell you that it started because an old powerline snapped in the strong winds and the sparks caught on those buildings. And I can tell you that, if you go, Ben, you will die."

The word hung between them, heavy and final. For a moment, Ben honestly seemed at a loss for words. His jaw moved soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air. He stared at Rook uncomprehendingly. Then, finally, he closed his eyes. When they opened again, they had softened. "Rook, I get it," he muttered, almost coaxing. "I get recurring dreams, too. Sometimes people die," Ben admitted. "Kevin or Gwen or… you. But they're just dreams." He smiled convincingly. "I've saved planets, Rook. I've saved the universe. I've gone up against tyrants and won, every time. I'm not going to die in a little house fire. I'll be fine. Let's go." Ben tried to pull away, only to pause when the grip that Rook had on his shoulders didn't loosen. He squirmed, uncomfortable. "Um… Rook. You're starting to hurt a little there, buddy."

God, he sounded scared. Rook was doing that. He was scaring Ben. But, he reasoned with himself, that was better than the alternative. He loosened his grip a little, as much as he dared. At least so that it didn't hurt.

"It's not a simple nightmare," Rook spoke far more evenly than he felt. "That wouldn't explain how I knew about your mother's juice cleanse, or how I know that today a research facility was attacked by one of Fistrick's lackeys despite my communicator having been off, or how I know the exact time and place of that fire. I'm promising you, Ben. We have done this before. I watched you _die_." His voice cracked on the end, but Rook forced himself to continue. He had to get it out. "You died in my arms. I watched your last breath. Please, don't make me sit through that for the third time."

He held his breath, not daring to breathe as his final words sunk in. Ben's face had gone emotionless, like he knew that he ought to be feeling something but had no idea what that feeling was or how to describe it. He exhaled slowly and, to Rook's surprise, reached up and gently grasped his wrists with both hands. "Okay."

Rook froze. Had he heard that wrong? "Okay?" He repeated, not daring to be hopeful. Was it that easy? Had he really managed to convince Ben? It couldn't be a trick. Could it?

"Okay," he said again, looking away from Rook. "Look, your dreams… Maybe they're telling you something. So if the fire's that big of a deal to you…" Ben swallowed hard like it pained him to continue. "...I won't go."

His jaw dropped. Rook knew that he had to look ridiculous but his mind was scrambling to understand. Ben had agreed to stay home. He wasn't going to go. He wasn't going to die.

Without thinking about it, Rook surged forward. He wrapped his arms around Ben and squeezed tightly, tucking his head down against Ben's head. He appreciated the tickle of human hair, the warmth against his fur, even the self-conscious way that Ben struggled between hugging Rook back and leaving his arms at his sides to ride it out.

"Thank you," Rook wheezed. He felt Ben stiffen as tears splattered against his head, but he still wasn't trying to pull away. "_Thank you. _So much. Ben…" There was nothing to add, so Rook didn't finish. He just wanted to say Ben's name without screaming himself hoarse at a corpse that couldn't hear him.

Uncertain, Ben placed one hand on Rook's side and put the other around him to hug him back. It was probably difficult with how Rook was clutching him, but he wasn't pulling away any time soon. "Uh, sure," Ben said awkwardly. "No… problem, dude. It's just a fire. They can handle it without me, right?" It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Rook. The guilt of knowingly not doing anything to help those people had to be eating him up inside.

A part of Rook felt awful about asking Ben to sacrifice his morals, but at the same time, it _was _just a fire. Obviously, Ben could handle it. That was why the Plumbers always called him for menial things: because there was literally no way that he couldn't handle it. Everyone depended on Ben, everyone wanted his help, everyone took him for granted. And he did it to himself, too.

As much as he didn't want to, Rook pulled back and set his hands on Ben's shoulders, looking at him hard. "It is a fire, Ben," he said resolutely. "They can handle fires. People have handled fires for thousands of years before you. If this city didn't depend on the Plumbers as active law enforcement and if the Plumbers didn't depend on you for everything, we would not even be hearing about this."

Ben winced. "Dude, seriously, please stop with the contractions. It's not like you." He waited for Rook to nod, then sighed and continued. "It's just that… People could be hurt. And then it's my fault for not stepping in." He looked at the ground, then at Rook, expression turning pleading. "You're sure this thing that kills me is unpreventable? What if I promise to be careful?"

That almost — _almost _— won Rook over. But then his expression tightened and he shook his head. "You will find a way to get yourself hurt," he promised. "It is better that the conflict is avoided entirely.

Though Ben smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. "At least you aren't using contractions."

Rook's expression softened. "I am sorry, Ben. I do not like doing it either," he said gently. But it was the way that things had to be. It was the only way that he could guarantee Ben would be alive at the end of the day. And then his dreams would stop and they could put the whole thing behind them and never speak of it again.

He didn't look convinced, but Ben nodded anyway. "Sure," he agreed without feeling. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "And, um, on a different note… Thanks. I never knew you cared so much," he admitted. "I mean, obviously I knew you didn't want me to die or anything, but I've never seen you so emotional before. About anything. It… really means a lot." Ben looked up at him, expression scrunched into a frown. "Can you let go of me now?"

After what he had just said, Rook was very tempted to _not _let go, actually. Was he really such a bad friend? Did Ben not think that he would do _anything _if it meant keeping him alive? Feeling choked up, Rook nonetheless loosened his hold and let his hands fall away. Even after he let go, Ben didn't move. Rook didn't blame him. Frankly, he didn't know what to do. Nothing felt appropriate, given what had just happened between them. Was he supposed to ignore it and let Ben go on thinking that Rook barely cared? Did he think that _everyone _in his life felt like that? Would Ben have been as surprised if Gwen or Kevin were in Rook's place?

It took a moment, but then Ben sighed and walked around Rook. He sat down on his bed, laying back and letting out a hard groan. "Let's do something," he said resolutely. The Omnitrix chimed with another incoming call and Ben steadfastly ignored it. He glared at the ceiling, as though it would tell him the answer to a question that he hadn't asked yet. "I don't want to sit around here playing video games or whatever. Do you want to do something, Rook?"

He knew what Ben was doing, obviously. He was trying to do something so that he didn't feel like he was just lounging around being useless. And Rook understood that but, at the same time, he didn't think that it was a good idea to encourage it.

He hesitated, then sat down on the bed next to Ben. It took more effort than it should have to refrain from touching him. "I do not think that is a good idea," Rook muttered. "Why not do something that you enjoy? You can watch a movie or read a book or we can just… talk." He considered something. "Do you… _want _to talk about it?"

Ben dragged a hand through his hair and groaned. "Not really, to be honest. I just… this is such a weird situation. Since when are you the one getting prophetic dreams? I would have expected Gwen." He shot Rook a thoughtful look. "I wonder why, though. What's the goal?"

Of course, Rook had some theories, he just hadn't thought about them much. Not when he was far more concerned with keeping Ben alive at any given moment. "I think…" He said slowly, "that whomever or whatever is giving me these dreams wants me to ensure that you do not die in that fire."

With a frown, Ben nodded. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed, unconvinced.

Their conversation lapsed into silence. Rook stared at the clock and watched an hour tick by, neither of them moving. The sun crept across the bedroom and Ben dozed on his bed, arms folded behind his head and expression still twisted in unhappiness. It was a little boring, Rook supposed, but he didn't mind. For him, it was nice to just watch the time pass and compare it to Ben's chest still rising and falling.

Eventually, Ben's phone buzzed. He sat up to grab it from his nightstand, glanced at the text with sleepy eyes, and set it back before falling right back onto the bed. "Grandpa texted," Ben grumbled. "No one died in that fire, but a woman was injured. And he wants to see us immediately to talk about not answering our communicators."

Rook hummed in acknowledgment. "We should go see him then," he said.

Neither of them made a move to leave. Ben rolled over onto his side, looking up at Rook. "You should lay down, dude," he muttered. "You look exhausted. You didn't get a lot of sleep with those dreams, did you?"

Actually, Rook thought that he was getting plenty of sleep. But that didn't change the fact that every second awake was spent with frayed nerves and mounting stress. Sitting on Ben's bed, Rook was the most relaxed he had been in what felt like weeks. Had it really only been two days, or was it that he spent so little time unwinding?

After a moment, and with a lot of hesitation, Rook laid on his back. His legs were hanging off the end of the bed and the Proto-Armor wasn't very comfortable to sleep in, but those things were tolerable. He turned his head to look at Ben. "I do not need to sleep."

That made Ben roll his eyes. "Sure," he drawled. "If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to start any fires while you're napping."

It was a little pathetic that that actually did make Rook feel better. He scoffed anyway, then softened. It was tempting to reach over and lay his hand over Ben's, but Rook held back. He didn't want to make Ben uncomfortable. "If I nap, will you wake me up?" He asked. "I would not want to intrude for the night."

"I don't know, dude." Ben grinned, only a little forced. "If I woke you up, I'd have to tell my mom that you're staying for dinner and then she'd make double of everything. I don't know if I can handle that."

He smiled back, but in the end, Rook chose not to answer. Since Ben had mentioned it, he was pretty tired. It was warm in the sun and… surely sleeping for a few hours couldn't hurt, right? Closing his eyes, Rook muffled a yawn and shifted to a more comfortable position. As he did, his hand brushed Ben's arm. Muddled though his thoughts were, Rook didn't pull away. He waited for Ben to move away, maybe even get out of bed entirely and go finish his shower, but he didn't. He laid right there and Rook fell asleep to the steady reassurance of Ben breathing, his pulse thrumming against Rook's fingertips.

* * *

**A/N: Ben was supposed to get hurt in this chapter, too, but outlines can't always be trusted. Maybe some other time. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Still trying to get them shorter, but no such luck thus far. Eventually, though. **


	4. checkin tomorrow if i don't wake up dead

**A/N: Goddamnit, these chapters are getting way too long. I **_**promise **_**the next one will be shorter. I'm sick of doing this.**

* * *

_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanın—_

On autopilot, Rook reached over and turned his alarm off without needing to think about it. He was absolutely exhausted. It felt like he could sleep an entire week away and barely notice or even really care. He certainly didn't care at the moment. Rook buried his face in his pillow and curled up tighter in his blankets, eyes shut tightly as he tried to go back to sleep. It was nice of Ben to set an alarm, though.

Wait.

In an instant, any desire for sleep was forgotten as Rook shot bolt upright in bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes but that didn't change what he was looking at. His bedroom. Even though he had fallen asleep at Ben's house. Rook's alarm clock was functioning perfectly, despite the fact that he _knew _he had broken it the morning before. He was in his boxers, not his armor. And Ben was…

Rook fumbled for his communicator where it was on the nightstand, turned on as if he hadn't shut it off just the morning before. He pulled up the connection to Ben's Omnitrix, holding his breath as the flat tone buzzed away. Much as he didn't want to admit it, he was terrified. He had just fallen asleep next to Ben! What if he didn't answer? He hadn't gone near that fire, but what if that didn't change anything? What if it didn't matter how it happened, just that Rook had lost his vigilance, and Ben was dead again?

After what felt like an eternity but could have only been a minute or two, Ben finally answered. Rook heard a click as the transmission was accepted, then the shuffling of blankets and a groan. "_Rook?" _Ben's voice came over the speaker, a little worried but mostly tired and annoyed. "_What's the matter? Did something happen?" _

Hearing him, Rook's mouth went dry. What was going on? Ben didn't sound upset or consoling, like Rook would have expected him to be after what happened between them. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say. Then, slowly, he asked, "Ben, what is today?"

He groaned again, even louder than before. Rook thought that he heard a curse of some kind in the mix. "_Dude, is this an out-of-season April Fools' joke? You have the date and time on your communicator." _A pause, where Ben sounded like he was moving around. "_Today's Thrusday." _he said finally, unhappily. "_That's not even a funny day of the week. Did you really need to wake me up for this?" _

That was enough. Rook swallowed thickly. "No," he whispered, and he hung up.

Staring blankly ahead of him, Rook set the communicator down with a clatter and didn't move. It was Thursday, for the fourth time in a row. Why? He had assumed that it was a dream, perhaps a loop that made him forget the time spent awake in between them. Two was coincidental, but three was a pattern. The same thing had happened to Rook for four days straight. If it wasn't a dream, then what could it be? What was happening?

He laid back with a heavy sigh and blinked up at his ceiling. Despite having just put it down, Rook fumbled again for his communicator. He wasn't planning to call Ben twice, though. Gwendolyn was in a different time zone. It would still be early for her, but hopefully she would forgive his call.

It took even longer for Gwendolyn to answer than it did for Ben, which didn't surprise Rook. Technically, she had retired from the Plumbers. There was no requirement for her to have her Plumber badge near her anymore. Regardless of how long it took, Rook was willing to wait. He couldn't think of anyone else that he could talk to about this.

When Gwendolyn did eventually answer, she was just as groggy as Ben had been. "_Hello?" _She sort of slurred the word and Rook could hear her muffling a yawn. "_Rook? Is something wrong? This was one of the few days that I didn't have to get up early for class."_

"Apologies," Rook said reflexively, without really meaning it. "I need to discuss something with you urgently. It is about Ben."

He felt the shift in Gwendolyn's attitude. The line was quiet for a moment, save the sound of her moving around, then there was a sigh. "_Alright, I'm ready. What happened? He's not hurt, is he?"_

Rook pursed his lips. He thought for a moment about how to say it, then said, "I am going to say some things that will sound ridiculous. Listen to the end before dismissing me." Without waiting for permission, so eager to get it out that he felt as though he might burst, Rook rushed into his explanation. "It started a few days ago. On a job that should have been simple, Ben died. The Omnitrix— there was a malfunction, he was…" Rook had to take a breath. "But then I woke up the next morning and he was alive again! And— and the same things happened, in the same order. The same accident killed him, he died again, and yesterday, I… I did my best to keep Ben alive and I succeeded. Or, at least, I thought I did. I thought that I was having some sort of prophetic dream to tell me to prevent a disaster, but… Ben did not die yesterday. And yet, here I am, on the same day for a fourth time. It has been Thursday for four days now, Gwendolyn," he whispered, "and no one remembers it except for me. What is happening? What am I supposed to do?"

Miraculously, Gwendolyn didn't hang up. She was silent for a long time. Then, after what felt like hours but had to have been only minutes, she said, "_I don't know, but I have a few ideas about how we can find out. Kevin and I will meet up with you at Ben's house in an hour. I'll get him up and ready and let Grandpa Max know that you're both going to miss patrol today. Can you handle yourself until then?"_

Despite himself, Rook smiled. That was the most blunt way of asking if he was going to be okay that he had ever heard. He appreciated that Gwendolyn could be brash with him.

"An hour might be too long to wait," he admitted.

Gwendolyn chuckled. "_I can do a half hour, but that's it. I still have to get dressed and make myself presentable. And Ben has the worst morning breath."_

He nodded. "That will be fine. And, Gwendolyn?" Rook hesitated. He thought back to Kevin knocking him to the ground and Gwedolyn crouched next to him, supporting Rook even though she'd had every right to be furious with him. He softened. "Thank you."

"_No need to thank me,"_ Gwendolyn responded flippantly. "_It'll be a miracle if I can get Kevin out of bed in half-an-hour. But I'll see you then, alright, Rook?"_

"Alright," he agreed. He hung up and got out of bed to dress and shower. Everything was still overwhelming and confusing, but Rook felt a little bit better about his situation. At least he didn't have to figure it out alone.

He took longer than he probably should have in the shower, just watching water swirl down the drain with a vacant look on his face. Rook wasn't lost in thought or anything — in fact, he was barely thinking at all. Nothing was making any sense.

Three days ago, Ben had died in a collapsing building. Rook couldn't breathe.

He got out and dressed in his usual body suit and armor. Normally, doing so gave Rook a sense of power and control. He felt confident, ready to take on the world. Or the galaxy, or even the universe, depending on what mess he and Ben had to tackle on any given day. But looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, Rook felt nothing. How could he have ever considered himself powerful? No matter how much armor he put on, no matter how skilled a fighter he was, no matter how many precautions he took, he wasn't above death. No one was, nothing ever could be. Rook had thought he was okay with that, and in some ways, he was.

He had accepted his own mortality — it was everyone else's that he was terrified of.

It was five-twenty in the morning when Rook reached the Proto-TRUK. As normal, barely anyone else was awake and no one talked to him on the way to the garage. When Ben was with him, Rook thought, people waved and smiled or even stopped to talk for a few minutes. He had always assumed that it was because Ben was a bigger deal than him, but maybe that wasn't quite right. Maybe it was just because Ben was a better person. A better friend, definitely.

He got into the TRUK and started off. Unlike the last time he had driven to Ben's house (had that been a dream, or had it been real?), Rook maintained enough presence of mind to be aware of other drivers and follow the laws of driving. Funny. He had learned how to drive starships on the first day of Plumber Academy, but driving cars and trucks was something that he had learned only in preparation to be Ben's partner. A lot of his training had centered around Ben, Rook realized. He just hadn't realized how much _he _centered around Ben until that stable ground had crumbled beneath his feet.

At five-thirty on the dot, Rook parked the TRUK on the road outside of Ben's house. It was good to see that he still knew how to be punctual, as if that meant anything. Rook sighed and got out of the TRUK, locking it behind him. He walked up to the front door, unsure. Were Gwendolyn and Kevin already there? He didn't see any other car on the street.

He raised his hand to knock, only to have the door swing open before he could. Rook blinked, surprised, and stiffened when he saw that it was Kevin who had answered.

Oblivious to Rook's reaction, Kevin stepped aside and waved him inside. "Hey. Gwendolyn said she felt you pull up," he said in a surprisingly soft voice. "We're keeping it down for Ben's parents sake. They said we can all hang out in his room, but we've got to keep it down until seven because that's when his dad gets up to get ready for work."

Rook nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind them. "I will maintain a low volume," he said quietly. He let Kevin lead the way to Ben's room, though he already knew where it was. They didn't speak on the way there, but Rook wasn't sure if that was due to Kevin's tense mood or the fact that they were passing Ben's parent's room.

When he entered Ben's room, Rook was surprised to see that there were two fold-out chairs set up amidst the untidy piles spotting the floor. They had been arranged with the desk chair around Ben's bed to make a conference circle. In the desk chair, Gwendolyn was sitting with a glass of water. It clicked then that she must have teleported herself and Kevin there, which was how they got the Bellwood in such limited time. And sitting on the bed…

As soon as he saw Ben, Rook averted his eyes. He was in the exact same pajamas that he had been the day before, but instead of showering to receive guests, he'd just put on his white-and-green hoodie and sat up on the edge of his bed. He still looked tired, but being sleepy and a little irritable was much preferred over seeing Ben dead.

"Here, you can sit there," Kevin said, pointing Rook to the chair near Ben while he took the spare one closest to Gwendolyn. "Ben's dad keeps a bunch of fold out chairs in the garage. We used to use them a lot back in the day for these types of group plans."

"Speaking of which," Ben interrupted, muffling a yawn. "What exactly are we planning? None of you told me anything, you just teleported into my room and made me sit up." He pointed at Gwendolyn accusingly. "Give a guy a little warning next time, would you? I almost fell out of bed."

There was silence while Gwendolyn shot Rook a look, questioning him. She must have told Kevin some details, since he didn't look surprised, but he gathered that she hadn't said very much. It was best that Rook told everyone all at once, anyway. She had done more than enough just by getting them all together.

To start, Rook took a deep breath. Once he was steady, he forced himself to look Ben directly in the eyes. "Three days ago, it was also Thursday," he said evenly. He was impressed with how calm he sounded. In reality, that couldn't be further from the truth. "There was an accident, while we were out on patrol. Something… went wrong. The Omnitrix failed. And, Ben, you died."

The word "died" hung in the air, the tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Kevin, apparently, hadn't been told that detail because he was sitting up a lot straighter. Ben had that careful, blank look on his face. It was impossible to say what he was thinking.

No one spoke, so Rook continued. As much as he didn't want to talk about it, he knew that he should include as much detail as possible. He hadn't given Gwendolyn much to go off of over the phone. "You died," Rook repeated, trying to ground himself. "I dug you out of the rubble and watched the Plumbers on scene take your corpse back to the Plumber base. I… did not handle it well." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, pausing for a moment. He looked everywhere except at his friends. "I went to bed and when I awoke, I had no desire to get out of bed. I stayed there until you came and got me for patrol, Ben. You were alive. So I assumed that what I had experienced was simply a realistic dream. But as the day wore on, more things happened exactly as I knew they would. For example," he said, finally managing to look at Ben directly, "I know that your mother is currently on a juice cleanse. Before noon, there's going to be an attack on a pharmaceutical research facility when one of Fistrick's lackeys attempts to steal experimental performance enhancers. The attack will fail whether we are involved or not. And as the second day continued…" Rook trailed off. He looked down at his gloved hands and couldn't help but frown. "I tried, but you still died. I attempted CPR and you…" He winced at the memory. "One of your ribs, I think, snapped. You had a horrible concussion and there was bone jutting out of your leg."

There wasn't a good way for Rook to continue, he thought. Somehow, talking about the way Gwendolyn and Kevin had reacted afterward was more intimate than speaking of Ben's death. It was hard enough to go into the details of that. No matter where Rook looked, all he could see was Ben's last breath, the peaceful look on his face, the light leaving his eyes. He closed his eyes and it was imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

A hand touched his arm, pressure that Rook barely felt through his armor. Surprised, he looked up. Ben had leaned over to offer him a reassuring touch, a faint smile on his face. "You don't have to go into that much detail if it's hard to think about," he said quietly. Rook found the energy to nod. Once he managed to pull himself together, Ben leaned back. "Okay. So, what happened after that?" He put his leg up for emphasis, still forcing that smile. "I mean, obviously my leg isn't horrifically mangled. And I'm still breathing, last I checked."

Rook gave him a smile that felt more like a grimace. He knew what Ben was trying to do and he appreciated it. "Obviously," he agreed. "I thought that I had failed whatever prophetic dream I had experienced. But then I woke up, again, and it was still Thursday. I came to check on you immediately, Ben, and you were alive. Again. I told you what had happened as though they were dreams and managed to convince you to stay home and not go to the mission that killed you the first few times. I fell asleep. I thought that, since you were still alive, that would be the end of it." He shook his head. "Then I woke up today and it was Thursday again. You are clearly alive, Ben, which is good, but I can no longer think that I am having a dream. This is all real. I am not sure what is happening and it is starting to scare me," Rook admitted. "No one remembers this happening except for me."

He didn't voice any of his thoughts but, truthfully, Rook was starting to worry about the long-term. It seemed like he was caught in a loop of one day, though he didn't know why. If that was the case, then how was he supposed to break it? Was he going to spend the rest of his life reliving it all, the same day, over and over again? How many times was Ben going to die?

How long would Rook have the energy to keep saving him?

The idea that Rook could reach a point of mental exhaustion where he could ever knowingly and willingly let Ben die was terrifying to him, but he was being realistic. How many days would it take of reliving the same thing until Rook stopped caring about anything at all? Another week? A month? A year? All the same day. Nothing would ever change. It would essentially be Rook, alone, for eternity.

Just thinking about it knocked the breath out of him. No. Rook couldn't let it come to that. There had to be a solution.

"You're right. That definitely doesn't sound like a dream to me," Gwendolyn finally spoke, breaking the tension. "It sounds like a time loop."

Kevin nodded, sitting back in his seat. He was feigning casualness, but he was as stiff as a board. "Mm, that's a new one. I don't think we've had one of those before. What are we going to do about it, though?"

"Yeah, I'm more worried about stopping it than figuring out why it's happening," Ben chimed it. "Or why Rook is the only one remembering what's happening."

Though he nodded, Rook was actually insanely curious to know why he, of all people, had been signaled out. Was he being punished for something? He had sort of assumed that the best possible outcome was for Ben to survive until the end of the day, but that was apparently not what it was going to take. So what was the point of it all?

"Oh, I've got an idea!" Ben snapped his fingers, thoughtful expression giving way to a grin. "I'll just use Clockwork to fix the time loop. If that's all it is, he should be able to smooth it out. Or at least, get a pretty good idea of what's going on if that's not it. He sees five dimensions at once so I think he could figure it out."

That was something that Rook hadn't known about Chronosapiens. He blinked, taken aback. "You can accurately process five dimensions at once without having a mental breakdown?" Rook asked his partner.

Ben gave him a funny look, then sort of shrugged. "Sure. That's what Clockwork is made to do, so it'd be kind of pointless if Azmuth put him into the Omnitrix knowing that the people using it wouldn't be able to handle it." He stood up. "But let's take this to the backyard. Ever since Humungousaur put a hole in my bedroom wall, I haven't been allowed to transform in the house unless it's an emergency."

The atmosphere was a lot grimmer than it normally was between the four of them. If it wasn't so early in the morning, Rook felt that maybe Ben or Kevin would have the energy to crack jokes. It was hard to find any humor in the situation under the best of conditions.

Passing quietly through the darkened house, with Ben leading the way to the back door, their little group was slow going. Somehow, the walls felt too confining when it was dark. The cozy feeling from the day before, when Rook had watched Ben doze on the couch, was long gone. It felt like they were somewhere else entirely.

Going outside didn't help much, either. Ben had a sliding glass door that let out onto a modest patio and a good-sized, fenced back yard. The sun wouldn't be rising for another hour, at the earliest, but the stars in the sky were already beginning to recede as the horizon lightened. They were standing on the cusp of something, Rook thought. The world wasn't meant to be so still or peaceful.

No, peaceful was the wrong word. Like Rook, the world was holding its breath in anticipation, waiting for something.

Waiting for what?

His thoughts were pulled away from philosophical ponderings when Ben stepped away from the three of them and held up his wrist. He didn't have to say anything, but they all took one step back anyway. Clockwork was one of those aliens that you didn't want to be too close to, just in case. Ben was remarkable at controlling his aliens, but it was unreasonable to expect him to be perfect.

"Alright." Ben let out a long sigh and held his Omnitrix wrist up. He selected carefully from his playlist, unlike how he usually slammed down the core without even bothering to look most of the time. "A time anomaly is new for me, but let's see what Clockwork can do."

Even though he had been expecting it, the flash of green light still made Rook wince and cover his eyes. It was blinding compared to their pitch-black surroundings. To his surprise, though, there was a second green flash. When it died down and Rook had adjusted back to the darkness, it was to see Ben collapsed on the ground instead of standing in front of them as Clockwork.

Before Gwendolyn or Kevin had registered what happened, Rook was dropping to his knees at Ben's side, propping him up. "Ben, are you alright? What happened?" He brushed the hair out of his partner's face and couldn't help the sigh of relief when he saw Ben's eyes flickering back and forth behind his eyelids as he tried to open them. Had he really passed out?

By then, Gwendolyn had joined Rook on the ground. Kevin was still on his feet, leaning over them and looking like he was ready to take off should the need arise. Just as quickly as he'd gotten on the ground, though, Ben was sitting up and pushing them back. Rook let him go, giving Ben space to catch his breath and reorient himself as he groaned and held his head.

"I'm fine," Ben said with a sigh. "I just… wow. I wasn't expecting to get hit with that the second that I turned into Clockwork. It caught me so off guard that I transformed back immediately. That's… never happened before."

"What happened, exactly?" Kevin cut in. He knelt down and set one hand on Ben's shoulder, the other on his arm. When he stood, he took Ben with him, making sure that he was steady on his feet before dropping his hands. Rook felt something in his chest clench. He wished that he could have such casual interaction with Ben without feeling like one of the most important people in his life was dying every second that he was looking away.

"It was weird." Ben cupped his chin thoughtfully. Evidently, he had already recovered from his little fainting spell. "I was only Clockwork for a second, but it was…" He searched for the right word. "...loud. It was really loud. It still feels like my ears are ringing. I couldn't even tell what was happening. There was _too much _happening, I think is the problem. But…" Ben stopped himself. His face scrunched up as he thought hard about something. "Okay. If you think of time as branching off into other realities, then it's like the big one in the middle is shaking and it's causing all of the other ones to rattle, too. That's a terrible way to explain that. Damn. Uh, you know what?" He shook his head. "The point is, I don't know what's happening with the time loop, but I don't think that it's anything we can change. It's not happening in our time stream."

Most of that went over Rook's head and Kevin seemed equally as lost. It was probably hard to wrap your mind around if you hadn't experienced the sort of intensity that Ben did. It was bad enough to make him pass out, even if temporarily.

What had they gotten roped into?

Gwendolyn took Ben by the wrist and tugged him back over to the patio, where a few cushioned seats were set around a low table. She put her hands on his shoulders and nudged him down. Taking the hint, Ben sat. "I swear, you have no idea how to take care of yourself," Gwendolyn muttered. She glanced at Rook and he could have sworn that he saw her wince. But then, back to business, Gwendolyn said, "If it's too much for you to get a good look at, I might have some books on the subject. Not this, specifically, but there's a bunch of time-related spells and incantations that I haven't tried anything with because they're very complex and usually tied to dark magic."

"Dark magic?" Ben repeated with a frown. "Are you sure you want to mess with that? Plus, going through your collection could take all day. How are we even going to know what we're looking for?"

"Ben." Gwendolyn's expression hardened. "Your life is on the line today — and not in the usual way that comes with fighting. We know that you will _die_. Do you have any better ideas?"

There was no way to argue that, so Ben didn't try. He just nodded and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. This is… more serious than what we usually have to deal with. So, are we going to teleport to your dorm to start looking through books?"

"Well, I keep my magic collection in Kevin's car," Gwendolyn clarified. "His car is fortified and I used a pocket dimension spell on his trunk. It's not as big as something like the Null Void, but I can fit a lot in there. The four of us could probably stand in it, though between us and all the books and artifacts, it could get cramped."

"It makes packing for road trips really easy," Kevin added in. He set a hand on Gwendolyn's shoulder, looking more serious. "Teleporting puts a strain on you and you've already gotten us from the university to here less than thirty minutes ago. Are you sure you're up for a whole group of people?"

She smiled and placed a hand over Kevin's affectionately. "I'm sure," soothed Gwendolyn. "I can handle a little headache for something this important."

There was a moment of silence, then Ben yawned. "Alright, well—" He went to stand up and almost immediately began shaking on his feet. There were only a few steps between them and Rook didn't hesitate to grab Ben by the elbow, putting the other hand on his back to support him in case he fell or passed out again.

"You should not stand up suddenly after a fainting spell," Rook said chastizingly. He took another moment to make sure that Ben was steady on his feet before letting go. "Are you certain that you are okay?"

With a scoff, Ben waved his hand dismissively. "I'm fine, Rook. Just a little light-headed. If we're going to be going out, I'm taking a shower. It'll only be a few minutes. _And_," he added before Rook could cut in, "I'm locking the door, so if I slip and fall, I'll deal with it myself. Don't go teleporting anywhere until I get back." He gave Gwendolyn a pointed look as he started walking back to the patio door.

"You've got ten minutes, Tennyson," Kevin shot back. There was a snicker and the sliding door closed behind Ben, leaving the three of them alone in the backyard.

Rook sighed and ran a hand over his face. The sun hadn't even risen yet and he was exhausted. It was as though all he could see anymore was ways that Ben could hurt himself, like there was a countdown hovering in the back of his mind that ticked down every second until it was too late. He was at least comforted knowing that it wasn't set in stone. Ben didn't _need _to die. He had been saved once already and Rook would keep doing it for as long as he had to.

"Are you alright, Rook?" Gwendolyn asked, breaking him from his thoughts. He looked down at her, confused. She had a hand hanging in the air between them, like she couldn't decide if she should set it on his shoulder or not. Rook had never noticed before, but she had that same furrow between her eyebrows when she was confused that Ben did. "I know you've been through a lot these past few… well, days for you, I guess. Do you want to talk about it? You're hovering around Ben an awful lot," she pointed out. "And I understand why, but if you get any more obvious, it's going to start worrying him."

"What do you mean?" Rook frowned. "I am not hovering. I am being a concerned friend."

Kevin snorted, though there was sympathy on his face. "Dude, are you kidding? Since you got here, I don't think you've given Ben more than five feet of space. I know you're worried, and for a good reason, but Gwendolyn is right. Ben's not as dense as he likes to pretend he is. He's probably noticed by now and just isn't saying anything because he doesn't want to call attention to it and make you feel awkward."

Any retort Rook might have had died when Gwendolyn set a hand on his shoulder. The look on her face made his throat close up. "You left out a lot of details earlier," she said gently. "What happened, Rook? You don't have to say anything, but I think it might help."

There was a weird appeal in talking about it that Rook couldn't explain. Was it really that obvious, how worried about Ben he was? He felt on the verge of collapse and Rook had only lived through four loops thus far. If this whole thing was to continue much longer, he didn't think that he would make it.

He sighed and slumped forward, staring at his hands instead of looking at Gwendolyn. Rook was wearing gloves, perfectly maintained, but even so he could swear that he felt Ben's chest cracking beneath him. "There is not much to say," he said quietly. "I keep thinking… That first day, I was so sure that it was real. Ben had died. I saw his eyes turn dull. The Plumbers carried him away in a casket, not on a stretcher. And it was my fault. If I had done my job better, if I had been looking out for him the way that I am supposed to…" Rook clenched his fists and had to force himself to relax again with a groan. "I was holding him. I was right there. I could have saved him, but I… He died in my arms. And he looked so peaceful. I think that is the worst part. Maybe if Ben had looked as tormented as I was, it would not have been as hard to accept. Very rarely have I ever seen Ben that relaxed. He could have been asleep…" He trailed off. "Had it not been for the broken bones and the blood and the lack of a pulse, I mean."

Gwendolyn winced in sympathy and Kevin grimaced. Her hand left Rook's shoulder. "Oh, God, Rook. I'm so sorry," Gwendolyn said. "Do you want—?"

She was cut off when the patio door slid open. Ben stepped out dressed in his usual shirt and cargo pants, his hair still damp from the shower. "Alright, I'm out of my pajamas and I left a note for mom and dad explaining where we're going. Let's get to—" He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Am I interrupting something?"

Any moment that might have been happening between them immediately stopped. Gwendolyn took a step away from Rook and held her hands up in surrender, an unconvincing smile on her face. "No, of course not! Not at all! What, uh, could ever give you that idea?" She laughed nervously.

Next to Rook, Kevin snorted. "Smooth," he muttered.

Ben looked incredibly unconvinced, and for good reason. But he must have decided that it wasn't worth saying anything about because he sighed and shrugged. "Okay, great. Are you ready to teleport? I can grab some painkillers for the road if you want," he offered.

"No, that's alright. Kevin keeps some on hand for me, but I don't want to get dependent on them every time I teleport. I'm getting better at it," Gwendolyn said reassuringly. "Now, everyone move in closer. I don't want anyone to end up spliced into a wall."

After what Gwendolyn had mentioned to him, Rook paid careful attention to how close he was to Ben. He figured that it was best to put physical distance between them, just so that Ben didn't think that Rook had lost his mind. And, not that he had a degree in psychology, but hyperfixating on one person to the point of being unable to focus if they weren't within arm's reach didn't strike Rook as a healthy coping mechanism.

Once they were all close enough that Gwendolyn was satisfied, she bowed her head. Her eyes lit up magenta and mana spheres encircled her hands. "_**Abaeo Exorior**_," she muttered. A dome of mana appeared around them, wind from nowhere causing only Gwendolyn's hair to whip furiously. Her body blurred, as though being viewed through a filter, and then she was gone. Rook's stomach lurched and he felt himself falling.

He landed hard on his feet, knees aching and fangs clicking together painfully. Rook shook the fog from his head and straightened back up. Ben's backyard was gone and their group found themselves in the garage where Kevin worked and kept a small assortment of personal items. Luckily, his boss didn't live there, otherwise they would be in a lot of trouble.

"I keep the car in the back room," Kevin said. He led them past the body repair section and through a door marked "employees only." There was only room for two cars inside, with one spot empty and Kevin's occupying the other. He gestured to the mini fridge against the far wall, next to a small counter with a sink. "If you guys want some coffee, help yourself. There's also probably some energy drinks in there, but they might be flat."

Muffling a yawn, Ben immediately trudged over. "I'll take it. It might not be a smoothie, but I'm going to need some help staying awake for this. Besides, who knows when the next time mom will let me touch anything caffeinated is?"

Gwendolyn hid a smile behind her hand. "Sugar is poison," she shot back, teasing.

Reaching into the fridge, Ben pulled out two dark cans, which Rook assumed to be an energy drink. He wouldn't know, since he had never seen one before. He tossed one at Kevin, who caught it easily, and popped open his. After taking a long, dramatic gulp from the can, Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. "Then I guess I'll just have to die."

Rook winced. As soon as the words were out of Ben's mouth, he seemed to have realized his mistake because he quickly tried to back track. "Oh, God, Rook… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to— I mean, I know you're upset, of course you are, a-and it's probably not something you want to be reminded of. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to bring back anything unpleasant for you, I just—"

"It is fine. I am not upset," Rook said stiffly, cutting him off. He really wasn't upset, but hearing Ben ramble like that, frantic to apologize, wasn't helping him think about something else. And at that point, Rook was getting a little desperate to think about anything other than Ben. He turned to Gwendolyn. "We should get started. Would you care to lead the way?"

Forcing a smile, Gwendolyn was quick to nod. "Absolutely! And you two—" she gave Ben and Kevin both a pointed look, "—had better finish those before you even think about coming into my library. If you think I won't kick you out, you're wrong." She turned to Kevin's car and approached the trunk. Rook followed her, making an effort to not look at Ben. Gwendolyn held her hand up to her mouth and her eyes lit up with mana. "_**Marsupium**_," she whispered into her palm. A small key, barely bigger than Rook's thumb, materialized out of mana and she grabbed it from where it was hanging in the air. With it, Gwendolyn unlocked Kevin's trunk.

Instead of the regular back of the car, filled with potential valuables that Kevin had scavenged on missions and yet to properly put away, there was a swirling magenta void that bottomed out into nothing. Rook peered into it, but there didn't seem to be walls or even a floor. It looked like it was flat, lacking depth. He stuck a hand into it, just to convince himself that he wasn't looking at a picture, and managed to sink in all the way up to the elbow without hitting anything. He drew back, frowning, and subconsciously shook his arm out.

When he turned to look at Gwendolyn, she was watching with her arms crossed and a look of amusement on her face. "Don't worry," she said. "The floor's not that far down and you won't get hurt, anyway. I mean, not as long as you aren't thinking about gravity. This dimension isn't tightly bound to any plane of existence so the only laws in there are the ones in your head." She tapped her temple and stepped forward, standing next to Rook. "Would it make you feel better if I went first?"

The offer alone made Rook smile. He took a step away and gestured at the trunk with a big, sweeping gesture. "Please, by all means."

Gwendolyn readily swung one leg over the side of the trunk, Kevin's car jostling with the motion. She slipped her other leg over to sit on the edge, then abruptly pushed off and fell like a stone. Rook leaned over to watch as she disappeared, a pinprick far, far beneath him until she wasn't visible at all.

The sound of laughter caused Rook to look up. "Don't worry, man," Kevin said, grinning. "It's a little nerve-wracking the first time, but it's not as bad as it seems. Just don't look down."

Rook swallowed thickly. "A little bit late for that," he muttered.

But he didn't want to be around Ben at the moment (at least, now with the lingering awkwardness and the pressure to hold a conversation), so Rook left Kevin and Ben to finish their energy drinks and copied the same motion that Gwendolyn did. The car bounced a lot more when Rook was the one moving, but he did his best to ignore it. Sitting on the lip of the trunk, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed off.

There was only a second where Rook was in free fall and he hit the ground without so much as a jolt. He blinked, surprised, and looked back above his head. There was no sign of where he had just come from. The pocket dimension had no walls, only swirling mana extending in all directions. Books had been set on invisible shelves, artifacts left laying on tables that he couldn't see. Just being in the room, it was so filled with magic that Rook's fur stood on edge.

"Glad you could join me," Gwendolyn joked. She was seated on a chair that she'd made of mana, a stack of books already by her leg. "When you want to leave, just fall in the other direction. You'll pop right back out." Her expression softened. "Do you want to talk about what happened back there, with Ben, or do you want to get straight to work?"

He shook his head and walked over to Gwendolyn. Rook took a seat on the ground that wasn't there by her feet, grabbing the first book on top of the stack that she already had waiting. "Work," he mumbled. "I want this entire thing to be over. The sooner we begin, the better."

After that, Gwendolyn didn't speak to him, which Rook was grateful for. She had pulled every book off of the shelves that had anything to do with time and there was a lot to go through. It took a few minutes, but once Kevin and Ben joined them, they were all settled down and the only noise was the rapid flipping of pages.

It was rare, but if a spell looked promising, Gwendolyn would bookmark the page and set it to the side to look at more closely later. Rook went through a dozen books before he found one that seemed like it might apply to their situation. It was slow and dull work. The words on the pages were swimming in front of Rook's eyes before long. He knew that everyone else had to be feeling the same, but no one complained.

There was a break for them to have lunch, but Rook didn't eat. They weren't even halfway through the books that Gwendolyn had and he refused to leave until he'd exhausted all of their resources. So far she only had four spells to try and he wasn't going to bet Ben's life on those odds. He didn't trust that the loop was stable. It only took one mishap and then Ben would be dead and Rook would wake up to a Friday with misery keeping him from rolling out of bed again. He couldn't handle that.

If Rook had to wake up to a morning without Ben, he wasn't sure what he would do.

He could tell that the others were worried about him, but he didn't let that get to him. Rook could eat once he was sure that they'd done all they could to break the loop. He ignored the whispers about him and the concerned looks. All that mattered was the pile of books still left for him to go through.

Hours passed until Rook finally reached for the next book, only to realize that there wasn't anything left in the stack for him to grab. He looked around him and noticed that the others were similarly on their last books, all looking just as exhausted as he was. A part of Rook felt bad for dragging them into such a time-consuming project, but then he remembered that they hadn't done it for him. They were all doing it for Ben. It was just that they hadn't wanted to let Rook do it alone. He smiled to himself and stood, stretching with a yawn and a groan as what felt like every joint in his body popped and cracked.

"You done, Rook?" Ben asked from where he was laying on his stomach. He looked up from the book he was reading and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If you're going up, can you go ahead and order dinner? Kevin left some takeout pizza menus on the counter so you can just get something and we'll pay with cash when the delivery guy shows up."

Rook couldn't keep the surprise off of his face. "It is already time for dinner?" He asked. When had all of those hours slipped by?

"Afraid so," Gwendolyn said good-naturedly. She patted the small pile of marked books next to her. "I'm going to go through these one final time to see what the requirements are. And sometimes complex spells like these are worded so that you don't always realize there's a catch. If I'm not up there when the pizza gets here, go ahead and start eating without me. I'm sure Kevin and Ben will be finishing up soon, too."

He nodded and stepped into the middle of the room, where the exit was. Rook wanted to thank them all for their help but the words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head, forcing the thought away, and thought about leaving the ground. When he'd convinced himself that there was no ground to leave, Rook jumped and felt the trunk pop open, spilling him out on the ground next to Kevin's car. The lack of magenta made his eyes ache. Adjusting was going to take a while after spending all day in there.

Just like Ben said, Kevin had left some menus on the counter. There was an old landline attached to the wall. Rook had never used one and it felt clunky in his hands, but his Plumber's badge didn't connect to Earth cell towers. It was easy enough to figure out. Once the call had been answered, Rook put in an order for a cheese pizza, a meat lovers', and a Hawaiian. That was the default whenever pizza was ordered for their group of four, a tidbit that Rook had been quick to learn.

He smiled to himself. Pineapple on pizza had a unique flavor and texture that reminded Rook of Amber Ogia, in a way, which was why he liked it. That didn't stop Ben from making faces and pretending to gag every time Rook ordered it, though.

Ben…

There was movement from the car, which was Rook's only warning before Kevin popped out the trunk and stumbled, landing on his feet. He shook his head and walked over to where Rook was standing. "Did you order? I've got cash so don't worry about that." Kevin pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and snorted. "Paper money is so old fashioned… When do you think pizza places will start taking intergalactic credit?"

He nodded along to what Kevin was saying, but Rook wasn't really listening. A frown tugged at his face. A part of him wanted to talk to Ben, to clear the lingering tension between them, but… Did it matter? If whatever spell Gwendolyn cast didn't work, then Ben wouldn't remember their conversation. Rook would have to start over the next morning anyway.

"Hey." Kevin waved a hand in front of Rook's face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He blinked and stared, arching his brow, waiting for Kevin to continue. Which he did, rolling his eyes. "Look, I get that you've seen some pretty terrible things, but you need to lighten up. You're acting like Ben is already dead and it's making him feel like shit. I've seen him die before too, so I know how you feel. Relax. Do you think a little thing like dying or being stuck in a time loop can stop Ben Tennyson?" He smiled faintly and punched Rook on the shoulder. "Even if this doesn't work, we'll figure something out. Ben will be fine. And so will you."

Rook couldn't help the rush of fondness that came over him. "Thank you, Kevin. I—"

"This conversation never happened." Kevin cut him off with a flat voice and moved away. He started shuffling through his wallet, pulling out crumpled bills. "Gwendolyn and Ben will be up in a few minutes. They just wanted to talk some things over."

There was nothing more to say, so Rook nodded and watched Kevin walk over to lean against the wall next to the door that let outside. The garage had a small window and Rook could see that the sun had already set. He'd gone the whole day without a glimpse of sunlight. Something about that struck Rook as wrong, making his stomach twist, but he couldn't describe what the problem was.

After another minute of quiet while Kevin tapped away at his phone, the car once again began to shake. Rook was automatically alert as the trunk popped open. Gwendolyn landed gracefully on her feet, hovering above the ground before touching down without a sound. She grabbed Ben's arm at the last minute to keep him from falling over. Once he was steady, she tucked the book in her hands under one arm and again summoned a mana key. The trunk was locked, storing her collection safely away.

Seeing Gwendolyn holding only one book made Rook's heart sink. He had thought that, with the several they'd collected, more would prove to be promising. There was only one spell for her to try. He hoped that it worked.

"Alright, I went through the other books you guys gave me," Gwendolyn said. "Most of them were asking for some really high prices, like your youth or a collection of souls. This is the only one I found that seemed like it could work without ruining someone's life."

Ben hummed with interest. "Really? It has no catch?"

There was a pause and Gwendolyn's expression darkened. "No, it has a catch. But that's for me to worry about. Now, step back. I need room to set this up."

A protest started on Ben's lips, but Kevin set a hand on his shoulder and yanked him back. He watched unhappily as Gwendolyn summoned a piece of chalk and knelt in the middle of the empty space in the garage, beginning to draw. Rook had never seen her do magic like that and he couldn't help but watch with fascination. She was very precise, never stopping or needing to erase. Circles crossed each other, runes were scribbled into the empty spaces, and a six-pronged star was at the head of it, where Gwendolyn stood when she was done.

The center of what she'd drawn had been left empty. Rook wondered if she was going to put a candle there, but instead she made a thin sheet out of mana. It looked as delicate as glass. He didn't have to wonder what it was for — Gwendolyn took a deep breath and used the razor sharp edge to slice her palm open.

Immediately, Ben lurched forward. Kevin had to grab his Omnitrix wrist and put an arm around his chest to keep him from tackling Gwendolyn. "What the hell are you doing?" Ben shouted, struggling against Kevin's hold. "Gwen, stop! Whatever this price is, forget it! We can figure this out without a _blood bond_!"

"Shut up, Ben," Gwendolyn snapped, stunning him into silence. "Just let me do this for you. This is our only option."

She squeezed her hand over the center of the symbol she'd drawn. As soon as blood hit the ground, the chalk lines began to glow an ethereal blue. Gwendolyn opened the book with her other hand and began to recite the spell. As she did, she began to levitate, eyes glowing blue as wind whipped through the room strong enough to send chills down Rook's spine. The lights flickered and shut off with a dull click.

_O, quam adit harenas bisque per temporis lapsus_

_per digitos fortiter strictum._

_Et rursum versa poterimus subsistere._

_Hold vobis dimittere._

_Tempus est Fallacia;_

_et non Transcendit._

There was a blinding burst of light that died down as quickly as it came. When Rook lifted his head to look, the chalk on the ground was gone. Blood still stained the concrete, but it looked blackened and aged. Gwendolyn said nothing, clutching her bleeding hand by the wrist. She wouldn't look at Ben.

No one moved for a long minute. Finally, Ben elbowed Kevin off of him with a scowl. Letting him go, Kevin walked over to one of the drawers by his work station. He dug out a clean hand towel and approached Gwendolyn, gently taking her hand and wrapping the wound.

Rook had no idea what he was thinking. Kevin wouldn't be happy about his girlfriend putting herself in danger like that, but he must have known that nothing he'd said would have stopped her, because he was uncharacteristically quiet. None of them felt like holding a conversation anymore.

The only thing left to do was wait and see if the spell had worked.

By the time the pizza arrived, still no one had spoken, and no one talked while they ate, either. Rook didn't mind the silence. It was easier for him, actually. He sat next to Ben while they ate and got a strained smile for his efforts. That said more than a simple reassurance could.

It wasn't late, but they were all exhausted. Rook had never thought that reading could be so tiring. Kevin had a cot and some blankets that he used when he stayed late to work on his car (that way Gwendolyn couldn't get on him about sleeping in his garage) and there were some more blankets kept in the car for when their team used to camp out or stay somewhere late.

Gwendoyln wasn't up for teleporting after the spell she'd just casted and she didn't feel like dealing with her roommate, either, so she decided to settle down with Kevin for the night. It was obvious what she was doing, but no one called her out on it. If the situations were reversed, Rook wouldn't want to be alone either.

He removed his armor and took two blankets to lay on the floor. It wasn't very comfortable, but Rook had gotten used to sleeping in less-than-desirable locations in the Plumbers Academy. The cot creaked as Gwendolyn and Kevin laid down on it together. She was mostly on top of him with the limited space, but neither of them seemed to mind. Rook wasn't going to say anything, either. After the last few days, he'd want to go to sleep holding someone. He thought of Rayona, and his family, and the view of the farm at night and the aching in his chest only worsened.

Yes, Rook couldn't judge them. He'd love some comfort, too.

He rolled over so that his back was to the cot, surprised to find himself looking at Ben. They were spaced several feet apart, but close enough to touch, if they wanted to. Ben still had his eyes open. He stared at Rook for a moment, then glanced at where Gwendolyn and Kevin were. Their breathing had evened out, but it had only been a few minutes, so Rook knew that they couldn't already be asleep. Though he gave a faint smile, Ben said nothing.

Rook closed his eyes and, similarly, tried to fall asleep. As tired as he was, it was difficult to stop his pounding thoughts. Now that he had nothing to focus on, he could feel the sharp headache building behind his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep, but…

But what if he woke up and it was still Thursday? What was he going to do?

He opened his eyes and, without thinking, reached out. Rook stopped himself before he could touch Ben and let his hand rest on the floor between them. "Ben," he whispered. If his partner was already asleep, Rook wasn't going to wake him. "Are you awake?"

To his relief, Ben cracked open one eye and muffled a yawn. "Yeah, dude? What is it?" He asked sleepily.

There was a pause. Rook swallowed thickly. Finally, he managed, "I'm scared."

He saw Ben shrug off some of the tiredness, his expression softening. Before Rook could say more, Ben had reached over to close the gap between them, setting his hand overtop of Rook's. "I know," he said. "I am, too. I don't know how to solve a problem like this. But even if I don't remember today by tomorrow, I'm here to help you, Rook. Even if it takes a hundred attempts, don't stop asking me. Okay?"

Blinking away tears, Rook nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the way that Ben had smiled at him. It was better than having to watch another death. And as long as the days kept getting better, Rook thought, they had to figure out the loop eventually. He squeezed Ben's hand. Before he fell asleep, Rook's last thought was how much nicer it felt to do that when he wasn't wearing armor.

* * *

**A/N: A soft reminder that this fic takes place before season seven, so Gwen doesn't have Hex's library for her to use yet. I promise that's not a detail that I overlooked.**

**I know this chapter wasn't the most exciting, but I'm working on it. Pushing someone to a breaking point takes time.**


	5. i need you to be my god

**A/N: Remember how I said that this fic takes place during season six? Well, production order wise, it's supposed to be in season five. Apparently, the episodes were aired in the wrong order. So, for clarity's sake, this fic takes place **_**definitively **_**during season five.**

* * *

_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanından ayrılmayacağım._

_Beni cehenneme sürükleyebilirsin,  
__Bu senin elini tutabildiğim anlamına gelirse._

Rook laid awake in his Plumber standard bed scowling at the ceiling as he let his alarm play through the song. It was starting to get more and more annoying every time he heard it.

He didn't need to check the date on his Plumber badge to know that whatever spell Gwendolyn had cast the day before hadn't worked, but he grabbed the communicator anyway, if only out of habit. Sure enough, it was Thursday. Again. And Rook was back in his unremarkable room, alone in his one-person bed, with that _goddamn song _ringing in his ears. Ben was nowhere to be found.

But at least he was still alive.

Frustration was building in Rook's chest. He clutched at that anger because if he let it slip away, all that would be left was confusion and uncertainty. Anger, Rook could handle. Fear of the unknown was something that had terrified him since he was a child.

He rolled over, clutched his pillow to his face, and screamed into it as loudly as he could. Sure, it was a little silly, but Rook wasn't going to start tearing at his bed and trashing his room as he had on the first night of the loop. He didn't even want to think about it. Ben's dull eyes, the blood seeping between the rubble, the stain left on the pavement…

The memory was shaken off and Rook pulled himself up and out of bed. He might as well make himself presentable. He was tempted to stay in bed all day just punching the wall and screaming into his pillow, but that would be giving up, and Rook wasn't going to admit defeat. Ben would never surrender, so neither would Rook. It was the least he could do, considering all that Ben had done for him.

Right. Eyes on the prize. It was too soon to be throwing in the towel.

As he walked past his bedside table, Rook knocked his alarm clock off of it. It didn't break when it hit the ground, but it did shut up, which was what he had been aiming for. He was trying to get his frustration out before he went to see Ben. The last thing that Rook wanted was to end up inadvertently snapping at his partner, even if Ben wouldn't remember his behavior. That didn't excuse it.

In the bathroom, Rook stripped down and got in the shower, lathering his fur with more force than was strictly necessary. He spent five minutes longer in the shower than he usually did, mindlessly cleaning the same spots over and over and muttering under his breath.

The anger was irrational and, therefore, impossible to explain. Rook tried, though. He talked himself in circles trying to piece together why he was so upset. The problem was that the answers he came up with always crumbled whenever he applied the slightest bit of pressure. The lack of an answer only succeeded in upsetting Rook yet further.

No matter what avenue of thought he took, Rook kept coming back to the center of the problem: Ben. That was the biggest factor, he thought. Rook wasn't upset that he was the one tasked with fixing the time loop. No, he was upset that Ben had to be caught up in it, too. He was upset that the consequence of his failure was Ben's death, as if his life was something that was tethered to Rook's fuck-ups.

Ben should be decorating for Christmas with his family. He should be celebrating his shared birthday with Gwendolyn. He should be drinking smoothies and kicking butt and talking Rook's ear off about Sumo Slammers for the five-hundredth time.

Of all the things that Ben deserved to be doing, _dying _was not one of them.

In the end, though, being offended at the universe on Ben's behalf was a pointless and almost laughable endeavor, so Rook just sighed and got out of the shower. His fur had ended up water-logged, which was a minor annoyance, but not something that Rook cared about. He didn't have plans to be anywhere else until it was time to go pick up Ben for the patrol that they would absolutely be skipping.

He spent a solid twenty minutes blowing his fur dry. Rook didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be bothered to check. He got dressed in his uniform, grabbed his Plumber badge, and marched out to the garage to get the Proto-TRUK. It was too early to go see Ben, Rook knew that, but he was going to go crazy just sitting in his room waiting for time to pass.

The few other Plumbers in the halls gave Rook a wide berth. He barely even realized that they were there. He knew that he ought to compose himself, for Ben's sake, but Rook couldn't help that he really felt like punching something.

A part of him was still expecting to see Ben's car waiting in the garage, next to the Proto-TRUK. The empty space there threw Rook for a loop. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. Like flicking a switch, the anger was gone, and all Rook felt was cold regret. Maybe if he had done his job as Ben's partner correctly the first time, the time loop wouldn't have happened.

It had to have been caused by something with intent, otherwise, why would Rook be the only person that remembered it? So whoever or whatever was behind the loop had to want something from Rook, but what could it be? What was he doing wrong?

He pushed the thought aside for the time being and climbed into the Proto-TRUK. The way to Ben's house was familiar. Rook was barely paying attention to what he was doing. It took him until he turned into Ben's neighborhood to realize that he had been going ten miles under the speed limit the entire way. He hadn't noticed.

Rook's parking was sloppy, too, but he left the TRUK sort of on the curb and got out. He stalked up to Ben's house, fully prepared to knock and demand to see Ben… then paused. What was he going to accomplish, really, by storming in there at six in the morning for the third time in a row? He stood on the front porch and didn't move, paralyzed by indecision. Gwendolyn and Kevin had done all that they could and it hadn't worked. So if Rook went in there, all he was really going to be doing was waking Ben up. He had no plan.

With a sigh of defeat, Rook sat down on the porch. He might as well just let Ben sleep. At least he was going to be waking up. That was better than the alternative.

He held his head in his hands, looking down at the concrete walkway, willfully ignoring the biting cold in the dawn air. Was it even worth bringing up to Ben? Hopelessness clawed at Rook's chest. If every attempt was going to end in failure, why did it matter if he kept trying? It hadn't even been a week and it felt like he was running at a dead end. He had never dealt with matters of the spacetime continuum before and, so far, Rook wasn't enjoying it. He had no ideas for a solution.

He lifted his head up and looked out over the street. The sun hadn't risen yet. It hadn't even turned the night sky from black to a dusty blue. A car meandered by. Rook watched it thoughtfully. Maybe he could try…?

There was nothing to do other than wait. Rook had already decided to let Ben sleep. Knowing his partner, he had gone to sleep late, anyway. Ben thought he was sneaky, taking on projects at night by himself when they were off of patrol together. But Rook saw the paperwork and he stayed up-to-date on Ben's file. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do about it. To bring it up would be admitting to Ben that he had a slightly creepy interest in his friend's life. And even if he did mention it, Rook knew that Ben was never going to change. It was a trait that Rook both admired and loathed.

Maybe if Ben knew how to take care of himself, he wouldn't have died.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, Rook regretted it. He tamped back on the irrational anger and resentment. No, it wasn't Ben's fault. He was the victim in all of this. If anything, it was Rook's fault. If not his, then who's?

He stewed in his bitterness and doubt for what felt simultaneously like several hours and only a few minutes. Rook was only jolted from his thoughts when he heard the front door open.

"Bye, mom! Looks like Rook is here," Ben called back into the house, then he took a step forward and promptly tripped over Rook.

In his efforts to catch Ben, Rook ended up just knocking himself over. He landed on his back with his legs still twisted to the side like when he was sitting. Ben had his hands outstretched to catch himself and the drawstrings of his jacket were dangling in Rook's face, tapping against his nose.

Ben blinked, eyes wide and lips parted in a faint "o" as he looked down at Rook. It was rare to see him legitimately surprised and Rook found himself smiling despite what he had just been thinking about.

Then Ben laughed and sat back, sitting on his knees. "Hey, Rook. Fancy meeting you here," he teased. "You could have called first, just to give me a heads up before dropping in."

Rook quirked a brow. "I believe that you were the one doing the dropping," he corrected. "That was rude. I was simply trying to enjoy the sunrise." He stood up and offered his hand to Ben to pull him to his feet.

"What were you doing sitting on my porch, though? It's almost like you were setting me up to fail," Ben said suspiciously. He reached up to take Rook's hand and winced.

Once Ben was standing upright, Rook was quick to turn their hands around. He took notice of the red, irritated skin that had been scraped open in a few spots along the heel of Ben's palm. "Did this happen when you fell just now?" Rook asked as if the answer wasn't obvious. The blood was bright red, meaning it was fresh.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Ben said. He looked uncomfortable. "It's fine, dude. I just scratched up my palms on the concrete. And my wrists are sore now, but what else is new?" He sighed. "Probably shouldn't have caught myself like that, but I didn't want to body slam you."

For a few seconds, Rook was silent. He knew it was ridiculous to be upset over a scratch. Ben had gotten worse on routine jobs before and he had some rather unfortunate scars to prove it. But, regardless, Rook had promised himself that he wouldn't let Ben get hurt. He didn't want to see his partner's blood again. He had barely made it three days. The whole situation really was due to his incompetencies.

"Not that this isn't great but, uh, Rook?" Ben waved his free hand in front of Rook's face to get his attention. "Could you let go of my hand? Your grip is starting to hurt." Swallowing the guilt and an apology, Rook only nodded and let go. He hadn't even noticed that his hold had been tightening. Ben shook his hand out and studied it with a frown. "It's just a scratch, dude. If it'll make you feel better, though, I can go bandage it. I know you're a stickler for procedure. First-aid included, apparently."

The sad part was that seeing the injury wrapped _would _have made Rook feel better. He kept telling himself that Ben wasn't going to bleed out because he tripped and fell, but he kept remembering the other ways that Ben could bleed out.

He nodded distantly. "Yes. You should allow me to administer the proper first aid. It is better if we go inside anyway, Ben. There is something important I need to discuss with you."

If Ben thought that anything unusual was going on, he didn't show it. He shrugged. "Alright, sounds good. Let's go," Ben said with his normal enthusiasm. He pushed his front door back open and shrugged his jacket off, hanging it up on the coat rack that was there.

The blender was firing away, so Ben went in to the kitchen and tapped his mom on the shoulder. She was intently blending what looked like green mush, wearing a sleeping robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers. "Hey, Rook needs to talk to me about something so we won't be going on patrol yet," Ben said loudly to be heard over the blender. "I'll come see you and let you know when we're heading out for real, okay?"

"Okay," Sandra said, not sparing them more than a glance. "You kids have fun. I'll stop by and bring you both a smoothie in a few minutes!"

To Rook, Ben made a show of gagging, but then he smiled and pressed a kiss to his mom's cheek. "Thanks, mom," he called over his shoulder, already walking away. Ben missed it, but Rook saw the private little smile on Sandra's face.

The whole scene made his stomach churn. Rook had never had to tell Carl and Sandra how their son died, but the guilt gnawed at him all the same.

Pushing the thought away, Rook turned and left the kitchen. He followed Ben down the hallway back to his room. Somewhere in the house, the shower was running, presumably Carl Tennyson getting ready to start his day. The setting was so mundane and domestic. Rook hated it. Why couldn't Ben have this every day instead of being forced to repeat the same one?

Once in his room, Ben kicked the door shut behind them and threw himself down into his desk chair. It spun in a half-circle and he set a hand on his desk to turn back to facing Rook. Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms. "So." He arched an eyebrow. "What's going on, dude? You sounded pretty serious back there. Is this, like, a personal issue or one that involves punching?"

Oh, where to begin? The idea of explaining the whole thing all over again made Rook frown. It would be a lot easier if he could say it once and record it, but the recording would just be gone in the morning.

Rook sighed and sat down on the edge of Ben's bed. First aid had been forgotten. "We are in a time loop," he settled on. Might as well be honest. He skipped over the shock on Ben's face and continued. "For some reason, I am the only one who remembers it. This is the fifth day in a row that it has been Thursday."

There was absolutely no way that he was going to tell Ben about his repeating death. It wasn't an important detail. Rook was going to keep the ending of the day to himself. Besides, if they managed to fix the time stream, it would never come to pass. And if they didn't, then Ben wouldn't remember Rook explaining it to him by the time that the next day rolled around. What was the point? Rook did his best to bottle in his frustration.

As it was with Ben, there was no skepticism. He took everything that Rook said at face value. "A time loop, huh?" He cupped his chin thoughtfully. "That's a new one. I could try using Clockwork to smooth everything out. He should be able to handle that."

He had barely finished and Rook was shaking his head. "No. You tried Clockwork yesterday. The intensity of what is happening with the time stream caused you to faint and turn back almost immediately," Rook told him. There was no sense in retracing failed paths. He didn't want to be rude, but he needed to make sure that Ben understood.

"It's that bad?" Ben blinked. He looked a little more worried than before, though not by much. "That's going to be a problem. Huh. Well, maybe Gwen can help. She has a lot of magic books. One of them could be useful."

"We have already tried that, too," said Rook with a hint of impatience. He wasn't upset with Ben. At the moment, Rook was mad at just about everything. "Clearly, it did not work."

That time, Ben's frown had a bite of frustration, too. Rook felt a little guilty, but he didn't apologize. "Okay, well, what haven't we tried? You have to have _some _idea. It's not like I know anything about spacetime and quantum mechanics."

He opened his mouth to tell Ben that he had no clue where to begin or what to do, but then Rook paused. He did have one idea. It was a little out there, but…

He was quiet for another few seconds, lips pressed into a thin line. Then, softly, "You have not tried Alien X."

Rook knew that Alien X was a last resort for Ben, but it seemed like the right time. Desperate times called for desperate measures, or so the Earth saying went. He was a little skeptical that Alien X would even do anything. He knew that Ben had a Celestialsapien in the Omnitrix, somehow, but the only time Rook had seen Alien X in use, Ben had just transformed into him and then changed back, only to proclaim that the entire universe had been destroyed and he had remade it. Claims like that didn't inspire a lot of faith, but Rook wasn't in any mood to be picky.

As expected, Ben grimaced. He had expressed his distaste for Alien X plenty of times before, but evidently he didn't see the point in arguing because he said, "Ugh, those guys… Fine. I'll see if Bellicus and Serena have any idea about what's going on and if Alien X can fix it."

He stood up and popped open the Omnitrix's core, turning through his playlist before settling on Alien X. There, Ben paused. He looked up at Rook, questioning, and even opened his mouth to say something before abruptly closing it again. Ben looked away and pressed down on the core.

Like the last time Ben had transformed into Alien X in front of Rook, it immediately felt different than his other aliens. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and was replaced with a wave of heat. There was a faint smell of plasma. It only lasted a split-second, over as soon as the light from the Omnitrix died down. Alien X hovered just above the ground, unmoving. Absolute blackness gave him the appearance of a cut-out, a void in the fabric of space itself, but then Rook looked closer and noticed the dozens of tiny, twinkling lights. Not stars, but galaxies. They weren't embedded into his skin — rather, it was as though Alien X's body was a hole that allowed Rook to see the universe.

Under better circumstances, it might have been pretty. But looking at the magnitude of it all, Rook felt only hopelessness.

There was nothing for him to do, though. Ben had transformed into Alien X, so he would be unresponsive either until he solved the problem or until Rook went to sleep and woke up to the same day again. He didn't know how long that would take.

For a few minutes, Rook sat there and watched Alien X, hoping that it could all be over just as easily as that. Nothing was ever simple, though. The minutes ticked by and Rook found his attention waning. Should he try Gwendolyn and Kevin again? There was a good chance that they would be of no help at all, but doing something to keep himself busy would at least make Rook feel productive until Ben finished up.

There was a knock at the door and Ben's mom entered without waiting for permission, holding two cups of what looked like green cement. The smile on Sandra's face was quick to fall. She stared at Alien X for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable, then turned to look at Rook. "Is that Ben?" She asked.

The question struck Rook as odd. Not because it was an unreasonable thing to ask, but because of the tone Sandra had used. She sounded almost desperate.

Slowly, Rook nodded. "Yes. This is Ben's Celestiansapien form, which he calls Alien X. Do not bother trying to talk to him. This alien cannot do anything unless all three personalities in its head agree on an action which to take. I do not think that he could hear us anyway."

Sandra looked a little faint, but just gave a noncommittal hum and set the smoothies down on Ben's desk. She didn't take her eyes off of Alien X. Once her hands were free, she studied the alien closer, circling him slowly. "What does this alien do, exactly?" She questioned after several minutes of silence. "It seems impractical. Does it do something that makes all of this waiting worth it?"

Rook hesitated. There was nothing technically stopping him from telling Sandra everything she wanted to know, but he wasn't sure how Ben would feel about it. Not to mention, she was an ordinary human woman. The concept of Alien X was monumental. Would it upset her to know that there was a species in the universe capable of changing everything in an instant, without anyone even noticing?

In the end, he decided that, like most everything else, it didn't matter one way or the other. The chance that she wouldn't remember their conversation was high. "Alien X can do anything," Rook said finally. "So long as the three voices — Ben being one of them — agree on a single action to take, there is no limit to what he can do. He could reverse time, or make a planet disappear from existence, or…" He shrugged. "Perhaps summon himself a grape smoothie. It is the most powerful of the alien forms he has unlocked. Though, he will only move when he has made a decision," he explained.

Her eyes widened in surprise and Sandra looked back at Alien X again. "He can do all of that?" She whispered. Then something occurred to her and, to Rook again, she asked, "What is Ben trying to do with this alien right now?"

That time, Rook didn't have to think about it. He shook his head. "Plumber business, Mrs. Tennyson. I am afraid that I cannot share the details."

It was a lie, and a blatant one, but Rook couldn't bring himself to tell Sandra the truth. He didn't want to relive the whole thing again, either. If Ben fixed the time issue, Sandra would never need to know, and if Ben didn't fix it, then she would forget their entire conversation. That was just the way things were.

It was starting to get _incredibly _frustrating.

Unhappy, Sandra nonetheless nodded. With her lips pressed into a thin line, she sighed. "Whatever it is, it must be serious… Ben gets himself into so much trouble." She glanced at Rook but, when he didn't acknowledge her, she turned and headed for the door. Sandra paused with one foot over the threshold. "Oh, and Rook?" She called back. He looked up at her politely, expression blank. To his surprise, Sandra smiled — sad and resigned. "Drink your smoothie. And take care of my son."

When Rook nodded, unable to think of anything to say, she left. The door was shut behind her with a soft click.

Alone, there was once again nothing for Rook to do except watch and wait. He ended up taking the smoothie that Sandra had left for him, leaving one for Ben in case he transformed back soon and wanted something to eat. It wasn't that bad, but Rook wasn't really tasting it. He only drank the green smoothie at all to have something to do with his hands and to keep his stomach occupied.

It was sort of funny. Rook had barely eaten across the last five days, but he never found himself hungry. It was as though his mind was too clogged with everything else going on to register base needs like hunger.

Rook kept trying to think up something that he could do to pass the time productively, but he never found it in himself to move. There was an alarm clock next to Ben's bed and Rook watched the minutes tick by with a detached look on his face. Most of the time, he wasn't thinking about anything. He was just existing, nothing save the rising and falling of his chest to indicate that there was still a person inhabiting that body at all.

His throat closed up. He missed Ben. Rook hadn't stopped missing him since he died.

Hours passed like that and Rook barely noticed, flicking cursory glances at the clock but not really registering what it was telling him. There seemed to be no point in doing anything at all. The longer Rook sat there, the more anger drained out of him. In its place, nothing was left. If Alien X didn't work, what was Rook supposed to do? Give up?

Sometime around noon, Rook's Plumber badge started beeping. Despite his indifference, the noise still made Rook wince. He knew exactly what the call was about and he didn't even want to acknowledge it. He turned his Plumber badge off and only remembered to feel guilty about it a few minutes after.

It was getting difficult to muster up any empathy when Rook knew that it didn't matter. If people died in those fires, they would be alive the next day, just like Ben was. And they wouldn't have to remember any of the horrific things that happened, unlike Rook.

The bedroom door opened, startling Rook. He blinked, and only then noticed how dark it was in the room. The sun was setting and the only steady light was the faint glow that came from Alien X. Rook looked up to see Ben's dad standing there, not coming into the room.

"He's still like that?" Carl asked, his strained smile dropping. When Rook didn't answer, he took that as the confirmation that it was and sighed. "Rook, you should eat something, at least. Sandra made dinner if you want to join us."

Rook waited for a reaction — a spike of hunger, an inkling of guilt, even just his consciousness automatically telling him to be polite and accept — but he felt nothing. He shook his head slowly. "No, thank you, Mr. Tennyson. I am not hungry. I would prefer to stay here." The "_With Ben" _part went unsaid, but he got the feeling that Carl understood anyway.

He nodded, following Rook's gaze to stare at Ben. Like Sandra, he had a sad look in his eyes. It wasn't Rook's place to ask about it, so he didn't. "I worry about him," Carl said quietly.

There was silence for a moment. "So do I," Rook admitted.

Carl left without further comment. The door closing had an aching note of finality to it. A part of Rook wanted to open it again, drag Ben out there, and insist that they all eat dinner like everything was normal again. He didn't, though. Rook wasn't nearly that delusional.

The sun sank below the horizon and Rook laid down on Ben's bed, even though he wasn't tired. He didn't bother taking his armor off, he just rested flat on his back without getting under the sheets. He wasn't dreading what the next day would be, but only because Rook had found a new emotion buried beneath all of his upset: resignation. If it was inevitable, what was the point in wasting energy by being angry about it?

His eyes caught on Ben's letterman jacket, still hanging on a hook above the foot of the bed. Before he could convince himself not to, Rook sat up and grabbed Ben's jacket. He held it up, the light of the moon coming through the window catching on the number "10" over the heart. Rook sighed, deflating both inside and out. He laid back down, staring at the ceiling, and clutched the jacket over his chest as though it might soothe the emptiness that was threatening to consume him.

The clock ticked, the world turned, and Rook fell asleep to Alien X's glow, holding no doubts about what he was going to wake up to.

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**A/N: Do you guys think this is moving too fast? Are you getting emotional whiplash? Say "no" and shit is going to pick up really quickly after this. I like this chapter length, though. This is what I wanted for the whole fic and I'm going to try and maintain something like this the rest of the way through.**


	6. is this my life?

**A/N: This chapter is my shortest yet, but that's intentional. They're probably going to be pretty short for a little while, but full of developments. I hope it isn't boring for you guys!**

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_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanından ayrılmayacağım._

_Beni cehenneme sürükleyebilirsin,  
__Bu senin elini tutabildiğim anlamına gelirse._

The familiar tune played all the way through and Rook did nothing to interrupt it. He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom and sighed. He wanted to say that it felt crushing to wake up there again, like he had a weight on his chest, like he was carrying the universe on his shoulders, like he was ready to pull his hair out from frustration. But none of those were quite right. In truth, Rook felt nothing.

He wanted to. Rook would have liked anything similar to guilt or indignation or determination, but the longer he laid in bed, the deeper he seemed to sink into hopelessness.

Normally, Rook was the last person to give up, but what, exactly, was he supposed to do? He had no idea how time loops worked. If getting Ben to turn into Alien X hadn't been enough to fix it, and Clockwork couldn't even handle _existing_, and Gwendolyn's spells came up empty, then what options were left to Rook?

There was nothing to try. Rook scrambled for some idea, a haphazard plan, a crazy thought, _some _reason to get out of bed… But it was futile. What did it matter?

Time passed achingly slowly. Going back to sleep was tempting, but also impossible. Rook knew without having to try that he wouldn't be able to manage it. He had failed. He had let Ben down. For the first time in his life, Rook felt completely and utterly useless.

His clock ticked on, unbothered by Rook's distress. He hadn't turned his alarm off, but it ended on its own when the song was over. Rook laid on his side to count each minute passing. It seemed, to him, to take both an eternity and no time at all. He blinked, an effort that took what felt like thirty minutes, and an hour had passed. A funny thing, eternity was. It was supposed to be incomprehensible to mortals, but Rook thought of every day from then on being exactly like the five days previously and felt like he was getting a pretty good idea for the enormity of the concept.

At seven thirty-two, Rook's communicator rang, just as he knew it would. He ignored it, along with the subsequent calls, and at seven forty-four, the door to his room was pushed open. Rook didn't have to look to know that it would be Ben standing in the threshold. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head and look, let alone actually give a damn.

"Rook!" Ben shouted his name, a mix of concern and frustration. Then there was a pause. He must have noticed Rook still in bed because there was the soft pad of Ben's tennis shoes on the floor as he came to stand at Rook's side. The silence stretched on between them until, finally, Ben reached down and gave Rook's arm a shake. "Hey. Rook, are you awake? Are you sick or something?" He leaned over the bed, inserting himself into Rook's line of vision. The sight of him brought a swell of tears that Rook was quick to blink back. The fondness choking his throat only worsened when Ben's expression turned to genuine worry. "Woah, Rook, you look awful. What happened? You're usually up before the sun."

How was Rook supposed to answer that? All of a sudden, he was _exhausted _and he had absolutely no interest in explaining the same thing to Ben for the fourth time.

Rather than answer, Rook groaned. He pressed a hand over his eyes and turned onto his side, away from Ben. "I would rather not talk about it," he forced himself to say.

What was he supposed to do? Preventing Ben from dying again seemed rather pointless when he was just going to be alive in the morning again anyway. The thought of the loop breaking on its own though, stopping after the _one time _that Rook had given up, made him shudder with dread.

Ben thought about it for a moment, quiet. Rook thought that he was going to leave but was surprised when the bed dipped with Ben's added weight as he sat down at the edge. "You don't have to talk about it," he said sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

A surge of frustration hit Rook and quickly died out. He wanted to laugh and cry. How was Ben so _excellent_? He tried so hard every day to be a good person and do the right thing, and _this _was how the universe saw fit to treat him?

With a brief burst of energy, Rook sat up and turned to face Ben. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut again. For a moment there, Rook had almost wanted to ask Ben to stay with him. If they could spend the whole day holding each other, or even just sitting in the same room, Rook thought that would be perfect.

He had forgotten himself, though. Ben was a dead man walking and he was Rook's best friend, but their relationship wasn't like _that_. To ask something like that would be forsaking the last bit of professional integrity that still existed between them. They weren't emotionally vulnerable with each other and they weren't anything like lovers. And Ben wouldn't be comfortable with it. He was barely okay with _hugging _Rook.

And who's fault was that? Rook could have hugged Ben at any point during their friendship, but he hadn't because… Because _why_? What was he so afraid of?

Finally, Rook had to look away and give a shake of his head. "No. I think that it would be better if you left, Ben," he said, though that was the last thing that he wanted.

"Left?" Ben looked surprised, but then he rolled his eyes good-naturedly and put on a smile. "Oh, come on, Rook. I know you're upset, but just tell me what you want right now. I can help! I _want _to help."

But he _always _wanted to help, didn't he? Rook chuckled weakly. "As if you know how to do anything else," he muttered.

Caught off guard, Ben stared. Then he turned faintly red. "I don't… What?"

Without needing to think about it, Rook reached up. He set his hand on Ben's cheek, appreciating the contrast of the fur and skin without his gloves in the way. "All you ever want to do is help others," Rook elaborated. He was staring at his thumb, brushing along the corner of Ben's lips. "And I am beginning to think that we do not deserve it, such kindness. I think that you are too good for this world and you have earned far better than what you got and…" His gaze flicked up to Ben's eyes, wide and staring at Rook as if they had never seen each other before. Rook swallowed thickly and forced himself to continue. "...and this world does not deserve _you_."

All at once, the spot next to Rook on the bed was empty. Ben had jumped to his feet, tearing away from Rook. His face was bright red and burning. "That's not…" Ben sputtered, floundering for the right words. "My hero work isn't…! I— I mean, I'm not…" He gave up with a groan and buried his face in his hands. "I'll swing by and check on you during lunch, Rook. I'd better go let Grandpa know that I'm doing my patrol alone. You should get some rest."

Something heavy sank in Rook's gut, not unlike longing, but he only nodded. "Yes," he agreed, watching Ben hurry to the door. "I think that would be best."

At the threshold, Ben paused. He turned back to look at Rook, hesitating and still red in the face, but eventually just shook his head and left. The door slid shut behind him with finality, like the closing of a coffin. Rook knew already that Ben wouldn't be back for lunch.

He told himself that it didn't matter but couldn't bring himself to believe it.

It was back to watching time pass. Rook's communicator buzzed a few times, on schedule with the events that he was missing, but no one came to bother him. Ben must have done what he said he would, then. And he was going to handle the day's missions by himself. He was going to die, again, but for the first time, it would be alone.

Rook had left him _alone_. He knew that he shouldn't care, _that it didn't fucking matter_, but it was getting hard to breathe through his guilt. At least that was better than feeling nothing. Not even hunger seemed to be bothering Rook.

It was past noon when his door opened again with a slam. Rook had been dreading it, but he couldn't help the wave of relief that went through him. It felt like Ben had been dead the whole time and this was only the confirmation. The finality of it saved him the exhaustion of worrying and thinking until he eventually forced himself to sleep and rode through the next day.

Gwendolyn was in his door, with Kevin right over her shoulder. She looked like she had been crying. Rook sat up in bed, watching her. He already knew what the news was.

Taking a few steps forward, Gwendolyn muffled a sob with her hand and collapsed onto the edge of Rook's bed. She took a moment to gather herself, then set a hand on Rook's shoulder. "I… There was an accident," she whispered. "It happened while Ben was out on patrol. There was a fire. The paramedics arrived, but… They were too late. It— it wasn't your fault, Rook—"

"Ben's dead," Kevin said stiffly, cutting through Gwendolyn's rambling to get straight to the point. Like ripping off a bandage. When Rook didn't outwardly react to the news, Kevin scowled. "And unlike her, I _do _think that it was your fault." He crossed his arms, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists. Kevin was shaking. "What the fuck are you even doing? Just laying in bed all day while your partner— while Ben is risking his life like it doesn't even matter to you, like you don't _care_."

Blearily, Rook thought that Kevin was going to punch him again like he had one of the other days. Was that the second or third day? It was getting hard to differentiate them.

"That's enough, Kevin," Gwendolyn snapped. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, but Rook didn't think that the tears made her glare any less intimidating. "It's not Rook's fault. And Ben wouldn't—" Her breath hitched. "...he wouldn't want us to start fighting like this."

"Then how _should_ we fight, Gwen?" Kevin demanded, stepping closer as his voice got louder and louder. "I don't care what Azmuth says! The Omnitrix _failed_, and Rook _failed_. There's supposed to be fail-safes, there are supposed to be things looking out for him when we _can't_! This shouldn't have happened!"

It was cranking up to be a hell of an argument. Personally, Rook didn't care if they fought, he would just prefer it to not be in his room. However, something that Kevin said stuck in his mind. Gwendolyn opened her mouth to respond and Rook beat her to it.

"Azmuth?" He questioned. Kevin and Gwendolyn both snapped their heads around to stare at him, completely opposite expressions on their faces. Rook didn't care how they looked at him. "What did Azmuth say? Is he here?" Of course he was. He had to collect the Omnitrix, didn't he?

Hesitating, Gwendolyn eventually nodded. "Yeah, he's in the main room, talking to Grandpa right now. But why do you—?" She jolted when Rook stood up, brushing past her and into the hallway. "Rook, don't interrupt Azmuth!" She tried. When he didn't turn to acknowledge her, she groaned and called after him, almost exasperated, "You're in only your underwear, Rook! Just get back in bed!"

Of course, Rook didn't listen to her. He knew that Kevin and Gwendolyn were following him, but they didn't try to stop him, and neither did anyone else that Rook passed in the hall. He didn't even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about being half-naked in front of his co-workers. Yet another thing that didn't matter.

His bare feet carried him to the main room purely on muscle memory. Rook wasn't even paying attention. The communications center was as crammed with busy and noisy people as always, but it wasn't hard to find a floral print t-shirt through all of the standard uniforms. Without a second thought, Rook started over. The room had gone quiet at the sight of him and he didn't _care_.

When Rook approached Azmuth and Magister Tennyson, they were locked in a heated conversation. About what, Rook had no idea, but he didn't consider it. He was interrupting some of the most important people in the galaxy and he didn't care, he didn't care, he just _could not __**care**__._ "Azmuth," he said, speaking a lot more firmly than he felt. Surprised, both Azmuth and Magister Tennyson stopped talking. Rook didn't spare the Magister even a glance. "Ben is dead," he said matter-of-factly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max flinch and forgot to feel bad about it. "Why? Why did the Omnitrix fail him?"

He needed to know. It was the question that had haunted Rook for weeks, always at the back of his mind, always impossible for him to answer. The Omnitrix was supposed to be perfect, Ben was supposed to be untouchable, so _why_? Why had it all gone so _wrong_?

Ruffled by the interruption, Azmuth looked at Rook with indignation before giving in with a sigh. "_Well, _as I just finished explaining to Magister Tennyson, the Omnitrix is incredibly powerful, but still only a machine. When Ben was electrocuted by the power cord, the Omnitrix absorbed that energy and released it in the quickest, least dangerous way possible: by triggering the detransformation sequence. Then it ran a quick system scan to be sure that nothing had been damaged." Azmuth huffed, stroking the filaments that acted as a beard for him. "Honestly, this whole situation is ridiculous. If Ben had just kept himself alive for a few seconds more, the Omnitrix would have resumed operating at full capacity and he would have been fine."

It was so quiet in the room that you could hear a pin drop — not that Rook noticed. He couldn't hear anything beyond his heart slamming in his chest and the blood that was rushing through his ears.

"I see," he said softly. "So you are saying that it was _Ben's _fault."

Rook didn't make the conscious decision to move. There was a flurry of voices and colors as everyone lurched into motion, shouting, and the next thing that Rook knew, his clenched fist was aching and Kevin was holding him back by the shoulders. Gwendolyn had thrown up a mana shield around Azmuth, to protect him. To protect him from…

Shrugging Kevin off of him, Rook unclenched his fists and dropped his hands back to his sides. He was trembling.

There was a long moment where no one spoke, not even Azmuth. He was staring at Rook. Azmuth wasn't scared, exactly. More aptly, he seemed unsure. It was as if Azmuth didn't know who he was looking at. Frankly, Rook didn't, either.

It was Magister Tennyson who eventually broke the silence, dropping his hand away from the blaster on his hip to set it on Rook's shoulder. Kevin stepped back and Gwendolyn hesitantly dropped her shield. "You should get some rest, Rook," Max said gently. "I know this must be difficult for you. Don't worry about patrol or reassignment or any of that for today. We can discuss all of that in the morning."

Right. Through all of the confusion and frustration of the past week, Rook had nearly forgotten that he still had a job. He was supposed to be a professional. Ben was never meant to be his friend, only his partner. Nothing but a contractual obligation. Thinking about it left a sick taste in his mouth.

He almost told Magister Tennyson not to bother, because Rook was retiring. But then he thought about it a second more and Rook realized that it didn't matter. Nothing _fucking _mattered anymore. He could kill a person and it would be erased by the next sunrise.

Looking down at his hands, Rook was sickened with himself. He dragged his gaze back to Max's and settled for a nod. "Yes, sir," was all he managed, a whisper.

Just a few more seconds and Ben could have survived.

He turned and started back toward his quarters. Out of the corner of his eye, Rook noticed Gwendolyn try to follow him, only for Kevin to put a hand on her shoulder and mutter something that Rook couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it got Gwendolyn to leave him alone and Rook was thankful for that.

He locked the door to his room behind him and stood there for a moment, looking at nothing. Rook's vision grew blurry and he blinked. Tears dampened the fur on his cheeks and he whimpered. Just like that, the numbness that had haunted Rook all day cracked and gave way to sorrow. And he cried.

Leaning against the door, Rook rested his forehead on the cool metal and let himself cry. He didn't sob or scream or hit things. The tears came without his consent and there seemed to be no end to them. As much as he hated crying, though, Rook had to admit that it felt good. He had been so miserable the last few days and too busy trying to undo it to allow himself something as simple as a mourning period.

Maybe he stayed there for a minute and maybe he stayed there for an hour. Rook wasn't sure and, in the end, it didn't really matter. He did his best to pull himself together and turned away from the door.

Staring at his bed, exhausted, Rook chose to do something that he hadn't done willingly in a decade. He got down on his knees and held his hands to his chest in prayer. If he had a candle, he would have lit it.

"_Brallada… _I cannot believe I am doing this," Rook muttered to himself. He wasn't the religious type anymore but, well, he was desperate and more than a little bit scared. "Please… Allow me at least one more repeated day. Not because I deserve it, but because he does."

Rook felt like an idiot. Not for praying, but for not seeing the truth of the matter sooner. Even if he couldn't do anything to solve the issue, Ben was all the reason that Rook needed to get out of bed in the morning. He had been for years. In that sense, it was almost like nothing had changed.

But, of course, everything had.

He wiped away the last of his tears and got up, climbing into bed. Rook wasn't sure how long it would take him to fall asleep, but when faced with the potential eternity in front of him, it didn't seem important. He closed his eyes.

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**A/N: I'm a staunch atheist, so if this chapter offended anyone, then remember that I offended myself during the writing process. **

**(And then remember that the next chapter is going to be a lot worse.)**


	7. you can break everything (but so what?)

**A/N: Somehow this chapter is even shorter than the last one. Sorry about that, guys. Cross your fingers for longer ones in the future but, you know, each chapter has an outline. The word count just reflects how long it takes me to get through every point on the list.**

**Also, I've been thinking of opening a Ko-Fi account so you guys can support my work and I can take writing commissions. Thoughts?**

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_Öyleys—_

It wasn't not a surge of hope or excitement or anything like that, but Rook's eyes snapped open and he slammed his fist down on top of his alarm with invigorated energy. The beginnings of an idea were tickling the back of his mind. It was Thursday, again. He knew without having to check.

It was going to be the same events playing out, like before, but what if it wasn't? Rook hadn't done anything yet to dramatically challenge the script. But maybe if he did, then…

Well, he had no evidence to support that, but he might as well try it, right? Everything happened for a reason, or so the saying went, and that included the time loop he found himself in. If the universe had placed Rook in such a damning situation, surely it wanted him to do something. Clearly, saving Ben's life wasn't enough. Rook had to do something more than that, something only _he _could do.

He got out of bed slowly, taking his time to stretch and climb to his feet. Rook padded into his bathroom and studied his shower and medicine cabinet, thoughtful. He knew of some fellow Plumbers who had their own scented shampoos and plenty of cosmetics to alter their appearance in small ways every day. He had never taken notice of his own lack of personalization before.

Rook glanced behind him, at his barren bedroom, and frowned. Everything he owned was considered essential: his colorless, odorless soap, his complimentary bedsheets, his single cheap, disposable comb. The only thing in his room that stuck out as having a hint of personality was the photo frame that Ben had given him as a gift. And that had been Ben's purchase. Rook hadn't so much as put a photo in it.

He felt entirely unqualified to be taking charge of the situation as he was. Rook had never been a leader. He was a follower. Even in the last few days, he kept turning to his friends to find solutions to the problem for him.

Who in their right mind would think that Rook was capable of anything on his own?

He shook the thought away. Maybe when the time loop ended and decisions were permanent again, Rook would ask Ben to go to the Bellwood Mall, and they could buy posters for Rook's room, and shampoo with a brand and some sort of fruity smell, and they could stop at a photo booth to get something that would fit perfectly into his unused frame.

Getting into the shower, Rook took his time. It was hard to really enjoy it when he didn't have anything to spoil himself with. Some people liked long, hot showers, but Rook was struggling to understand the value in it. It just felt like he was wasting water. He lathered his fur twice simply to feel like he was doing something with his time, attempting to take it slowly, and got out when the water was starting to cool. He waited for a twinge of guilt at taking all of the hot water for the morning, but it didn't come.

It was difficult to feel guilty for something as minuscule as hot water when Rook was busy feeling guilty for killing Ben and then forcing him to relive it every afternoon.

He got his Proto-Armor on but, on second thought, left some of the pieces off. He kept his gloves and arm guards and shin guards on his bed, looking them over with a grimace. Rook felt naked without his full set of armor, but he was trying to do things differently, so he tolerated it. If only he had normal clothes.

He glanced over at his alarm clock. It was already five-thirty. Normally, he would be at the Plumber Fitness Training Center by then, but he didn't feel the normal itch of irritation that came with being behind schedule. There was no more schedule for Rook. It wasn't as though time mattered anymore. There was just him, Ben, and the problem that Rook had to fix for the sake of his own sanity.

With his armor only partly on and the Proto-Tool over his shoulder, Rook grabbed his Plumber badge and marched down the hall toward the garage. He stopped by the cafeteria to grab a proper meal, going through the serving line that he normally avoided and getting a full plate of food. Rook was just about the only one there, which spared him getting a lot of odd looks. Plumbers tended to stick to routines — it was better for the sake of efficiency.

He took his time eating, even though the food wasn't all that remarkable. Rook managed to drag his meal out all the way to six o'clock, when more officers began trickling in for their breakfast rations before their daily assignments. When he passed people that were familiar, Rook offered a smile and a nod, but nothing more. Ben liked to stop and chat, but frankly, the idea of small talk made Rook's stomach churn. He had something far more important to attend to and he never tolerated tardiness.

It was still an hour too early to pick Ben up, but Rook wasn't planning on heading there. No, it was better to let Ben sleep. If nothing else, it was another hour guaranteed that he wouldn't get himself in trouble.

With time on his side (at least, for the morning), Rook drove to the Mr. Smoothie on the far side of Bellwood. Each store had its own gimmick with flavors, as part of the brand to encourage people to visit all locations, and Ben's favorite just so happened to be the furthest one from his house. The flavor was, to Rook, disgusting: pickled plum and seared eel. But when the store opened at six-thirty, Rook ordered it anyway and he got himself an ordinary mango smoothie.

He wasn't really sure what the point was. He wasn't hungry and Ben wasn't going to remember the gesture anyway, unless Rook got lucky. But, well, just in case the day ended the way that Rook was planning… He wanted to say that he had at least done something generous for Ben, for no other reason than to be kind.

If only his Plumber badge doubled as a high-resolution camera — Rook would have liked to fill that photo frame.

He arrived at Ben's home a little earlier than anticipated, but that was alright. Rook was still attempting to work out what, exactly, he was going to say. Parking the Proto-TRUK along the curb, Rook sat back, two smoothies untouched in the cup-holder next to him, and thought.

It was beginning to seem like Ben's death was inevitable. When Rook wasn't there, he still died. When Rook _was _there and knew ahead of time, he still died. For a moment, Rook wondered what it must have been like. Not the dying aspect, but what came after. How long had it lasted for Ben? Had he seen anything other than blackness? Had he felt anything?

And if Ben _had_ felt something, had he been in pain? Had he been furious with Rook?

The thought was pushed aside. Rook had no doubt that he would be feeling guilty for the rest of his life, regardless of how it turned out, so he had to focus. If there was a shot at fixing it, fixing everything for Ben… What would Rook be willing to sacrifice to make that happen?

Sitting in the Proto-TRUK wasn't giving him any answers. Seeing as how it was nearly time for Ben to leave the house and Rook had no intention of going on patrol regardless, he opened the door, grabbed his smoothies, and stepped out. Approaching the front door, Rook stopped at the step thoughtfully. He didn't see much of a point in knocking when Ben was going to be right out, and he'd prefer to keep Ben's parents out of it, but would it be creepy if Ben opened the door to see him standing there?

Rook decided that he didn't care and stayed right where he was. He didn't have to wait long, regardless.

The door opened with a soft creak. "Bye, mom! Looks like Rook is here," Ben called over his shoulder, not bothering to look where he was going.

Remembering how they tripped over each other the day before, Rook took a step back. Ben shut the door behind him and turned to face Rook at the last second. His eyes grew comically wide as Ben stuttered to a halt, bumping against Rook's chest. It was better than falling over each other. Had Rook's hands been free, he would have set his hand on Ben's shoulder to steady him.

Once he'd oriented himself, Ben took a step back. "Woah. Uh, hey, Rook. What's up? You're underdressed." His gaze flickered toward the smoothie cups in Rook's hands and he raised an eyebrow, giving a half-smile. "Oh, cool, and you brought breakfast. What's the occasion?"

There was an uncomfortable feeling in Rook's chest. Did he really do so little for Ben that he thought it had to be a special occasion to get a smoothie? They ordered them together all the time. Granted, usually only at Ben's insistence, and with Ben paying, but still.

"No occasion." Rook shook his head slowly and handed Ben his cup. "I had some free time this morning and so I went across town to get your favorite flavor." He managed a half-hearted smile. "'_Available only at select Mr. Smoothy's restaurants,'_ I believe is what the commercial said."

Ben's entire face lit up as he took the cup from Rook's grasp, taking a large gulp from it. Personally, Rook wasn't sure how anyone stomached it, let alone enjoyed it, but it wasn't about him. It was about the look in Ben's eyes as he grinned. "Rook, wow! Seriously, dude, thanks. You didn't have to do that. I'm surprised you even remembered," he joked. "I only get this, like, once in a blue moon."

Rook wasn't sure what the second full moon in a calendar month had to do with anything, but he decided not to ask. He took a half-hearted sip from his own smoothie, just for show. It had no taste and settled cold in his chest when he swallowed.

"I did want to talk to you about something serious," Rook continued. He pulled his Plumber badge out of his pocket and turned it off. "Firstly, we will not be going on patrol today, nor will we answer our Plumber badges. Although, depending on how long this takes, we may not need to keep them turned off for too long." He stole a glance at the road behind him. Empty. For the time being, at least.

After taking a drawn-out sip, Ben parted from the straw with a pop and looked up at Rook curiously. "What are you talking about?" He asked after a long pause. "If it's this serious, shouldn't we let the Plumbers know?"

"No." Rook shook his head. "This is just between the two of us, Ben."

The frown on Ben's face deepened. He lowered his smoothie, staring at Rook more intently. It seemed that neither of them was going to be finishing their drinks. Rook gave up the pretense of enjoying his and stepped around Ben to set it down on the front porch step.

"Okay," said Ben at last. "What's going on then, Rook? Is it a special mission?"

"In a manner of speaking. But it is for me to worry about, nothing that you need to handle," Rook assured him. Deciding to rip the bandage off, he added, "This is the seventh day in a row that it has been Thursday. I seem to have found myself stuck in a time loop. No matter what I try, the day continues to reset and I am the only one that remembers it."

Ben stiffened, his eyes widening and his lips forming a perfect circle of surprise, a soft "_oh," _leaving him. Rook stared at his mouth for a second longer than was strictly necessary before looking back into Ben's eyes. "A time loop? Really?" When Rook nodded without a hint of a smile, Ben turned thoughtful. "Huh. That's… Wow. I didn't even notice." He looked around them, as though expecting something to be different. There were only the same blue sky and neat, suburban houses that were there every morning. Ben was still looking in the distance when he said, "I wonder what's so special about today, though. It's just Thursday."

Without missing a beat, Rook answered, "You died."

There was a moment where Ben had to process. He suddenly lost interest in whatever he had been staring at and looked at Rook as though seeing a stranger. "I… what did you say?" He asked at last.

Rook had to look away. He thought that he would have been desensitized to it by that point, but he couldn't handle the intensity of Ben's stare. "You died," he forced himself to repeat. "Three times, you have died." Once, when Rook was miles away, again when Rook had to watch, another beneath Rook's hands and in his arms. "It was an accident. And completely my fault, for being unable to save you." Rook was shaking but he didn't care. He swallowed to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm sorry."

Sensing how upset he was, Ben set his smoothie down and reached out to Rook with both hands, setting them on his forearms. It was almost the same thing as bare-skin contact without the Proto-Armor, even if Rook's bodysuit was still in the way. Rook had to resist the urge to pull Ben into a hug. "Woah, Rook, it's okay," Ben soothed. "I'm alive. I'm fine. Whatever happened, I'm sure it wasn't your fault." He didn't sound sure. Though, in fairness, it was difficult to talk evenly about one's own death.

"It was my fault." Rook pulled his arms back slightly, choosing instead to twist his fingers with Ben's. The gesture surprised Ben, but he didn't pull away. Rook let himself enjoy the feeling of their hands pressed together and choked his guilt down. "If it had not been my fault, then why else would I be the only one that remembers it?" He pressed. "I have saved your life, Ben, but that hasn't been enough. The time loop persists. Clockwork failed, Gwendolyn's spells did nothing, and Alien X was useless. I think that is ample evidence to conclude that the solution to this matter lies with me."

Ben looked entirely unconvinced, but he nodded anyway. "Okay. So, what's the plan?" He asked, surging forward. He squeezed Rook's hands out of eagerness and reminded himself that they were still clutching at each other. Carefully, Ben pulled his hands free, and Rook tried and failed not to be disappointed by the loss.

"You misunderstand, Ben. There is no plan as far as you are concerned." Rook looked out over the empty street thoughtfully, the idea he had been ignoring for too long nudging him again. "I am going to attempt to fix this myself by making a willing sacrifice."

That must have been the wrong thing to say. Ben's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Sacrifice?" He echoed. When Rook didn't answer, Ben persisted, more frenzied. "What are you talking about? Rook?"

A wave of exhaustion hit him. Rook was so _tired_. He was sick of it all. A week of nothing but Thursday and Rook was terrified at the thought of dragging it out any longer. He wanted the whole thing to end.

No matter how it finished, Rook didn't care, so long as it was _over_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rook noticed a car turning the corner, coming down the street. Whoever was driving it was speeding, going about thirty miles an hour if Rook was remembering his human units correctly. It was grossly over the speed limit for the subdivision, but that wasn't what Rook cared about. He didn't give himself too long to think about what he was going to do.

"I am going to try something," Rook said finally. "Please do not freak out, Ben."

During Plumber training, it had been drilled into his head that to give his life for the cause was the highest honor a soldier could have. When he had been whittled down from a pool of thousands of contenders to be Ben Tennyson's new partner, the lesson was reinforced yet further: _nothing in the universe was as important as keeping Ben Tennyson alive._

Nothing was more important than Ben. The last week had made Rook understand something about devotion. This was nothing to him. If he had to burn the world for Ben, then he would.

A life for a life, as the saying went. And, well, in some ways it made the most sense to Rook. If someone had to die, then why else had the universe chosen him, of all people, to be the one to fix things? It had to be fate or destiny or something else that Rook didn't believe in.

He stepped away from Ben, crossing the yard and to the sidewalk. Rook didn't turn around, but he heard Ben make a funny little noise when Rook put a foot in the street. Apparently, the on-coming car had caught his attention, too.

"Rook?" Ben called after him, hesitant and confused and maybe a little scared. "What are you doing?"

To answer would mean stopping to think and Rook couldn't let himself do that. So he said nothing to Ben and stared, instead, at the approaching car. The driver was on her phone, talking to someone, and barely paying attention to the road. He almost felt bad for incriminating her in what he was about to do but then he thought of Ben again and the feeling passed. He focused on lining it up.

It was important — for both himself and for Ben — that Rook made it quick.

He didn't throw himself on top of the car or step in front of it, knowing how durable even an incomplete set of Proto-Armor was. Rook leaned back to give himself momentum, and threw himself forward, aiming at the street.

Rook felt the asphalt beneath him, heard Ben scream his name (he thought that he saw a flash of green), and looked over just in time to confirm that he had lined up the front tires with his head and abdomen before everything went painfully, slowly black.

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**A/N: I've been playing fast and loose with the ****Kubler-Ross Model of the Five Stages of Grief. Rook wasn't in denial for long and he's been bouncing around between anger, depression, and bargaining. But when he hits acceptance, well, that's going to be the best part of this fic.**


	8. carry our bodies safe to shore

**A/N: If you have my playlist for this fic (or even if you don't and just like listening to music while you read), I suggest listening to: _The Scientist_, by Coldplay, _Train Wreck_, by James Arthur, _Little Talks_, by Of Monsters and Men, _Just One Yesterday_, by Fall Out Boy ft. Foxes, _Heaven Knows_, by Five For Fighting, and _A Little Death_, by The Neighborhood. Trust me, set up a little playlist and read this chapter. I proofread, I know what I'm talking about.**

* * *

_Öyleyse iki me—_

Rook was surprised for about a second. Then he shot up in bed and, with an uncaring side sweep of his arm, sent the alarm flying and splintering against the wall with a ringing _crack_. He sucked in a hard breath and was amazed when it didn't hurt, hands prodding his bare chest for an abrasion where there was none. He felt his jaw, wincing at the memory of it shattering beneath the car tires a nanosecond before the rest of his skull followed. Phantom pain pulsed deep in his bones, down his spine and settling beneath his skin in a full-body sort of _ache _that made Rook want to claw his way out of his own body.

He took three steady deep breaths, forcing himself to, then his lower lip trembled. And that did it. Rook felt tears in his eyes and didn't try to fight it as he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow to sob. He had died. Had Ben felt it like that, too? The sudden, overwhelming pain followed by waking up in the morning?

Then, so suddenly that it would have knocked Rook over if he had been standing, he felt a flood of _anger _that drowned out whatever misery he had been stewing in. He had _died_. Rook had given his life for Ben's and that _still wasn't good enough_.

Rage and hopelessness only served to fuel each other as Rook impulsively sunk his teeth into his pillow and clawed at it, snarling as it fell to pieces, scratchy fabric and cheap foam stuffing in his hands. When the pillow was gone, Rook shredded his sheets and then the mattress beneath it, letting out a horrible wailing noise that sounded like an unholy cross between sobbing and screaming. Either way, Rook was shaking so badly that his fangs were chattering painfully. He wasn't seeing red — Rook saw nothing at all because to see implied being able to process something beyond the all-consuming rage threatening to eat him alive.

He picked up his bed frame when he was done and slammed it into the wall with a scream that rattled his bones far more than the recoil of the blow did. Rook heard his door swing open, _cursed himself for not locking it on Wednesday night, a lifetime ago, _and the Plumber who slept in the room next to Rook's poked his head in, asking something that Rook couldn't hear in a tone that he faintly recognized as concerned. Rook's response was to snarl and chuck a book in that direction. The door slammed shut, the other Plumber gone at the same time that the rest of Rook's bookshelf hit the floor.

Tipping it over didn't make him feel any better so Rook got down on hands and knees like an animal and dug his claws into the spines, wishing that the shreds of paper around him were torn skin and that the falling-apart-spines were muscles held together with flimsy tendons. He wished that there was blood seeping through his fingers, warm and grounding, instead of the cold _nothing _that was battling to extinguish his angry fire.

Rook wasn't one for excessive violence normally, but it was less about the violence than the act of doing something _grounding_. He was hyperventilating. Surely, murdering someone would last? Something _that _serious couldn't just be erased the next morning, could it?

But, of course it could. The whole situation had only started because of a death that shouldn't have happened.

It was impossible to remember a time when Rook had been anywhere close to this angry because it had never happened before. He was practically foaming at the mouth and there was no sign of him crashing any time soon. He had never wanted to make someone else _hurt _so much. _Anyone _else. Maybe the guilt would knock him over, maybe Rook would get out of his own head long enough to think about someone else's misery. He had never wanted to make someone hurt before, but Rook screamed at the wall and wondered what it would sound like if there was a different voice joining him, equally as anguished.

He just didn't want to be _so fucking __**alone **_anymore. Even if that meant dragging someone else down with him.

However angry Rook was, though, he only had so much bedroom to destroy. He wished that he'd decorated more before this whole thing happened so that he could have had more to tear into. His bed frame was dented, his bookshelf was in splinters, his fake potted plant was shattered, and his nightstand—

Chest heaving, Rook slowly turned to the only piece of furniture in his room that he hadn't destroyed yet. He walked over to the nightstand and, hands trembling, carefully picked up the frame that Ben had given him. Rook wondered what sort of photo they could have put into it. Maybe a goofy one, knowing Ben. He might have jumped onto Rook's back, or comically leaned all of his weight onto Rook, or snatched his Proto-Tool and accidentally misfired it right when the camera snapped.

Half-heartedly, Rook knocked his nightstand over before sinking to the ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and took one last, long look at the photo frame before chucking it against the wall with all the force that he could muster. It broke on contact, of course. Bits of glass and pink plastic mingled over the floor like a splattering of raindrops.

Rook didn't feel any better. His hands were so empty that they ached and Rook contemplated shoving one of the bigger pieces of glass through his neck. Maybe that was what he had done wrong? A sacrifice wasn't a sacrifice if it wasn't direct, was it?

In the end, Rook didn't try to kill himself again. He wasn't sure why not. Maybe because it wouldn't accomplish anything. Maybe because he was more terrified of waking up on Thursday again than he was of never waking up at all.

With his alarm clock broken and his Plumber badge lost somewhere in the chaos of his room, Rook wasn't sure what time it was. He didn't care, either. Time had stopped holding meaning. He was subdued and exhausted, but no less angry. It had gotten to the point that Rook wasn't sure what he was angry at; himself, for not doing enough, Ben, for not listening to him the first time and never putting himself in danger, the universe, for forcing this situation upon them at all. And for what? What lesson was Rook supposed to be learning, what was he supposed to be able to do to fix this?

It had gotten to the point that, even if only for a moment, Rook wished that the loop had never happened again. At least if Ben had been allowed to die once and called that the end of it, there was closure to be found in an ending like that. What Rook was living through at the moment was in no way fulfilling. He was stuck. He was trapped. There was no moving on because how was Rook supposed to be able to put it behind him when he had to relive it every time he woke up?

At some point, Rook's Plumber badge rang with an incoming message. He thought about answering it, but couldn't find a way to justify that to himself. Why bother answering? He already knew that it was Ben, wondering why Rook was late for their patrol. What would he even say if he answered? Explain himself? Beg Ben to come see him? Fumble through the day like it wasn't Thursday for the _eighth time in a row_? No. Rook didn't have the energy nor the patience for something like that.

And the more he thought about Ben, the angrier Rook got, working himself up all over again. He had done so much to try and fix this. Rook wasn't angry with Ben, not really. None of it was Ben's fault. But Rook was furious on Ben's behalf, because this wasn't fair, because there was no way out of it, because Ben was trapped as assuredly as Rook was and he didn't even know it.

Maybe Rook would have been happier not knowing, carrying through everyday without being able to remember that he had already lived it. A popular human saying was "ignorance is bliss" and, for the first time, Rook was beginning to understand it.

He would trade just about anything to be a happy idiot instead of a crumpled mess fighting between snarls and sobs in the remains of his bedroom.

And then the inevitable happened, exactly when Rook knew it would: his bedroom door was swung open with a bang and Ben was standing in the doorway. He reached over to flick the light-switch on and Rook stared at him blankly. He watched Ben's lips form the familiar rant he had given before: "Rook! What the hell are you doing? First of all—" He cut himself off as his eyes raked over the room and, rather than concern, his expression of anger melted into one of wariness. Had it been anyone other than Ben Tennyson, Rook would have expected them to run. But Ben just stared. "What happened?" He asked finally, sounding faint. "Are you…?" The question went unfinished. Ben didn't need to ask if Rook was alright when he clearly wasn't.

"You died," Rook said without feeling, staring at the wall next to Ben's head, "seven days ago. We're in a time loop of some kind. No matter what I do, I can't seem to fix it."

As even as he kept his voice, every word fueled the anger that Rook was struggling to choke down. He wished that he didn't have to keep repeating it. He wished, selfishly, that he and Ben could trade places. Ben would know what to do: he was a natural leader, so much better at finding solutions than Rook was. He likely would have already had the problem figured out and solved. Then Rook wouldn't have to know what was happening, wouldn't have to keep waking up every day and missing Ben so much that it _ached_, wouldn't have to submit to his own helplessness in the face of a yawning eternity.

If there was an end to the time loop, Rook didn't see it coming any time soon. Death and continuing the loop seemed the same to him: both were eternal, and Rook was not nearly ready to wrap his mind around the permanence of _forever_.

Ben shut the bedroom door and crossed the room to Rook. He probably should have left. "Rook, what are you—?" He reached out to set a hand on Rook's shoulder, only for Rook to suddenly reach up and latch onto his wrist.

"Don't," Rook hissed through clenched teeth, his jaw throbbing in protest as he squeezed Ben's wrist. "_Don't touch me_."

He wanted to make someone else hurt. It didn't matter who. And he couldn't make Ben hurt emotionally in the same way, because he was incapable of remembering what had happened, so the only other way to inflict pain was…

Unafraid, Ben stared back patiently. And why would he be scared? He was _Ben Tennyson _and Rook was nobody special. He was the moon and Ben was the Earth. If they collided, there was going to be a clear victor. "Rook," Ben said, infuriatingly calm. "Let go. You're hurting me."

The grip that Rook had on his wrist was probably going to bruise, he realized. But contrary to how Ben wanted him to _stop_, Rook didn't think it was _enough_. He snarled and found some horrible twist of delight in the way that Ben's eyes widened in surprise. Then Rook yanked, hard, and found himself pinning Ben to the ground.

The patience was gone. Ben was still unshaken, even though Rook had his Omnitrix pinned along with his other wrist. "Rook, get the hell off of me," Ben demanded, attempting to yank his hands free. "Whatever this is, I get why you'd be upset, but—"

"No," Rook cut him off, trembling. "You wouldn't understand." _But I'm going to make you_, he added in his head, leaving the implication hanging in the air but unspoken.

"Rook." Ben's tone was one of finality. His eyes were hard and achingly green, like they were on fire. "Get off."

Revonnahganders were a lot like humans, Rook realized. They had both created settlements and societies and civilized themselves to some degree, created law and order and justice. But they were both still animals. _Savages_. Rook had never felt bloodlust before. He hadn't even known that he was capable of it. But he was breaking down and nothing made sense to his rational thinking anymore. Why bother conducting himself respectably or trying to reign himself in? His poor decisions would be gone by tomorrow.

So Rook didn't get off. Quite the contrary. He dug his claws into Ben's wrists and saw red, felt Ben's bones jostle when he winced at the pain. There was a spark of uncertainty in his eyes, that adrenaline rush that meant he was getting ready for a fight, but Ben still wasn't afraid. Rook had never seen Ben scared before and the thought nearly bowled him over. He wanted to. He wanted to break Ben down until he was just as torn up inside, just as beside himself, just as _primal_. It wasn't fair that Rook was the only one who had to feel like this. He'd rather be dead. He'd rather that _Ben _was—

Rook was still wearing only the boxers that he'd worn to bed a week ago. So when Ben suddenly jammed his knee upward between Rook's legs, he felt it without any protection. Funny. The Proto-Armor was so advanced that Rook hardly ever felt the pain of blows anymore. He was used to getting the breath knocked out of him, but only that. The pain was a refreshing sort of agony. At least it was outside instead of inside.

He let go of Ben's wrists reflexively, recoiling and letting out a sharp gasp. Ben pulled his knees up to his chest and shoved his feet into Rook's stomach, sending him onto his back. Rook clutched his stomach, wishing that it would bruise. Wishing that the days would stop looping long enough to let it bruise. If the looping had stopped, he and Ben would have made quite the picture: Ben with his rib cage crushed, his head bleeding, his leg twisted and broken, and Rook with his head crushed like a grape, his spine scattered in pieces, his legs separated from his torso.

It would still be better than continuing to day nine.

When Rook pushed himself up and looked over, Ben had positioned himself in a crouch. He was staying eye-level with Rook, perhaps trying to be comforting. He was clutching his wrist, but not touching the Omnitrix. Blood oozed slowly between his fingers. Rook hadn't cut deep enough. It wasn't nearly _enough_.

"Rook, what the fuck?" Ben asked, which seemed perfectly appropriate and eloquently put. He looked confused and shocked and a little betrayed, but _still not scared. _"What's gotten into you? Are you being controlled?"

Of course that was the first thing that he went to. Ben was used to people trying to hurt him. He just wasn't used to that person being Rook.

The question was ridiculous, so Rook didn't justify it with a response. He lunged forward, grabbing Ben by the ankle and yanking his leg out from under him. Ben went over on his side, reaching for the Omnitrix at the same time that Rook grabbed his arm with his other hand and twisted it behind Ben's back. Rook pushed his wrist toward his head and watched as Ben grimaced in pain. He wasn't thinking anymore. When Rook grabbed Ben around the neck, there was not a thought in his head, only the instinctive desire to hurt someone.

That was another human saying, wasn't it? _Misery loves company. _

With blood splattered around them and Ben pinned beneath him, his fragile bones creaking beneath Rook's grip and Ben's pulse fluttering against his fur, Rook couldn't help but think that Ben looked like a baby bird with a broken wing. Already dead. Still gasping and writhing, as if that would help.

"This is all your fault," Rook gasped to Ben, to himself. He felt cowardly for being unable to do this to his own body, for having to use Ben as a stand-in. If that old saying was true, that you could only hate someone as much as you'd ever loved them, then Rook supposed that he must have loved Ben quite a lot. "If you'd just listened to me, if— if I'd just saved you the first time, then all of this—"

Rook struggled with himself for a moment and his grip on Ben's neck tightened. Ben choked and seized up. His heart was hammering so loudly that Rook swore he could hear it, and he was drooling. He couldn't kick Rook with their legs tangled together, he couldn't use his hands with one pinned behind his back and the other pinned beneath his torso. He was helpless — completely at the mercy of someone else's whim. So much like Rook.

"I hate you." Rook was whimpering, a noise like a wounded animal. He sunk his claws into Ben's neck, felt the shudder of bone and the warmth of blood trickling out around his fingers. "I wish I hated you. Maybe then it wouldn't— _hurt _so much. I'm— I love you, I'm so sorry that I—"

None of his words were sinking in. Ben was staring up at him and Rook found it difficult to read the emotions on his face when his skin was turning red and splotchy, when his mouth kept moving without sound, when his body started to go limp. But it was as his eyes were closing that Rook finally got what he wanted. There was fear. Not acceptance, like the last time Rook had watched him die. Terror, and a look that so clearly said: "_I'm not ready yet."_

And Rook pulled away, shaking. He wanted to vomit. He had done it, he had broken Ben down to be exactly like him, and Rook wished he hadn't. He wished that he could take it back. There was the sound of Ben coughing, sucking in ragged, wet gulps of air and Rook had to close his eyes. He turned away, shoving a fist in his mouth and biting down on his knuckles hard enough that he tasted blood.

_Oh, Brallada… _What had he done?

It was quiet for what felt like a long time. At some point, Ben had regained his breathing, but he hadn't made any move to approach. Not that Rook could blame him for that. The anger faded and, for the first time since it had flared, Rook didn't think that it would be coming back.

He felt completely horrible. What could have possessed him to even _think _about hurting Ben? For a moment there, Rook had really, genuinely wanted Ben dead. More than that — he had wanted them both dead, he'd wanted them to trade places, he had wanted _himself _dead. Rook had wanted so many things, but that wasn't the point. The point was that nothing he _ever _wanted should have included Ben being hurt.

"I'm so sorry," Rook managed. He'd already said that and it felt just as empty the second time. He winced and his vision blurred with tears. "Ben, you should leave. I don't—"

The sound of movement froze Rook on the spot. He was scared of what he might see if he looked behind him but he turned anyway, looking up from where he was on his knees as Ben picked himself up and approached Rook. The expression on his face was unreadable, but there was determination in his stride. There were only three steps between them. Ben closed the distance swiftly and Rook had about a second to process his hand closing into a fist before it was being slammed into Rook's jaw.

It hurt, unsurprisingly. Rook rolled his jaw with a grimace, feeling the responding surge of pain. But that was it? He had just tried to kill Ben, and… a punch was his punishment?

"That," Ben panted, sounding ragged, "was for choking me without even being mind-controlled. Jackass." He dropped to his knees in front of Rook, somehow managing to look both calm and annoyed at the same time. At least he wasn't scared anymore. Rook wasn't sure what he would do with himself if Ben was too terrified to look at him the same way. "So, what's wrong?" He prompted when Rook stayed silent. Ben rubbed his throat absentmindedly. It was already turning red and Rook wished that his guilt had physical weight so it would crush him and bring this nightmare of a day to an end. "You wouldn't do that for no reason. And it takes a lot to shake you up, so…?" Ben trailed off, leaching the question open-ended.

It wasn't even a real question, so Rook probably could have skated by with a non-answer. He didn't try. At the very least, Ben deserved the truth.

"We are stuck in a time loop," Rook whispered, looking at his fists clenched in his lap. "On the first day, you died. It was an accident, completely my fault. And when I went to bed that night, I woke up and you were alive, ready to go on our patrol. I thought that I must have dreamt the entire thing, but then you died again. In the same way." He wasn't trembling, oddly enough. Rook considered it similar to hypothermia setting in: the body shivered at first to keep itself warm, then began to still as the last of its warmth was leached away and it began to shut down. He had frozen solid. There was nothing left to cling to, so why continue fighting it? "This is the eighth day. I'm sorry, Ben. I thought that if I— I killed you, then maybe—" He winced, gnawing on his lower lip anxiously. His fur had to be a mess with all of the blood getting splattered in it. "But that's not it, not really. I just… wanted to hurt someone. I wanted _you _to hurt the same way that I do, because it's not fair, it's— all of this is— _why did it have to be me_?"

The hopelessness of his closing question caught even himself off guard as Rook wrenched his head up, gazing pleadingly into Ben's eyes as if he might have the answers. He wasn't sure how he expected Ben to react after all the nonsense that he had just spilled, but Rook certainly hadn't expected Ben to set two hands on his shoulders and give him a reassuring smile.

"Rook, it's okay," he soothed, knowing full-well that it wasn't. "I… Look, I get it. I've had my own moments where I was so angry, so sad, so determined that I just… wasn't thinking." Ben glanced away, staring into the distance at some memory that Rook wasn't privy to. He felt a stab of jealousy at whatever had Ben's attention, only for it to fade as soon as those green eyes focused on him again. "I've hurt people when I didn't mean to. Everyone's done things when they were angry that they regret later. And you've got every right to be angry." He reached up with one hand and brushed his fingers along the damp fur beneath Rook's eye. It didn't dry the dampness so much as it matted Rook's fur even further, but he found himself leaning into the touch all the same. Somehow, Ben's smile was even brighter than his eyes. "What have you already tried? I'll help you."

What had been only a few tears suddenly became a sob, a noise that ripped itself out of Rook's throat without his permission as he latched his arms around Ben and pulled him close. For his part, Ben only grunted inquisitively and squirmed, settling down when Rook squeezed him tighter. It wasn't so much a "hug" as it was Rook clutching Ben like a lifeline and sobbing into his shirt. It was completely undignified and a shameless display of vulnerability, but Ben only patted Rook's shoulder and muttered "there, there," repeatedly with a tone somewhere between confusion and bewilderment.

It made Rook want to cry harder. Ben's unconditional support was so much more that he deserved, especially after what he'd done. He didn't understand how the universe could produce someone like Ben Tennyson and then see fit to punish him like this.

"There's nothing to be done," Rook whispered, because if he was any louder then he was worried that his voice would break. "I've tried. Nothing works. Not Clockwork, not Alien X, not Gwendolyn's spells…" He buried his face in Ben's shoulder. "Keeping you from dying doesn't stop it. And killing myself didn't solve anything, either."

Ben made a noise like he'd just been punched. He pulled back suddenly, despite the whines of protest Rook made, and stared with his jaw hanging open. "You… tried to kill yourself?" He asked very, very quietly.

Rook hesitated, caught off-guard by the unexpected look on Ben's face. "...Yes?" He tried, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. "I thought that it was worth a try."

That didn't seem to make it any better. Ben threw his hands up in frustration. "Okay, and if you had been right and that made the looping stop, then you would be _dead_, smartass!"

"That is just stating the obvious." Rook shook his head helplessly. "Obviously, I knew that, Ben. Does it matter?"

Humans came in a variety of colors, but Rook had never seen one turn purple before. Ben was doing a very good impression of an angry plum. "Of course it matters!" He snapped, grabbing Rook by the shoulder and giving him a good, hard shake. "Rook, if I had to choose between the two of us, I'd pick you every time! We can find a solution to this, but you are _not _allowed to die. Do you understand?"

Scowling a little, Rook brushed Ben's hand off, grabbing his hands to make sure that he didn't go far. "That is more than a little hypocritical, don't you think?" He pressed. "You're allowed to die for people, but no one else is? Ben, I would die a hundred more times if I thought that it would fix this. When I first signed up to be your partner, they taught me that my life was far less valuable than yours and I should be willing to act as forfeit as any time if necessary," Rook admitted. Ben looked offended on his behalf but, before he could start ranting, Rook continued, "And now, I believe that more than ever. But not because I'm your partner. Ben… you have to understand, I would rather be dead than allow you to continue living this non-life. It is not even a question worth asking. I cannot think of anything that I would not do for you." Rook didn't say it, but he hoped that Ben could tell what he wasn't saying: murder, self-sacrifice, torture… If it would help Ben, Rook would do _anything_. And he wasn't one for hyperboles.

Ben's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Rook…"

He couldn't think of anything to say. Not surprising — Rook's declaration of undying loyalty had to confuse him horribly with the dried blood around his neck and the reddening bruise encircling the column of his throat. He looked down at their entwined hands, Rook locking their fingers together, and his knotted expression smoothed out. Rook had the strangest urge to brush his hair back and press a kiss to Ben's forehead; he always got worry lines there when he frowned.

"I don't care if it's hypocritical," Ben said finally, still not looking at Rook. "If you care so much about making me happy, then I'm telling you that I'm much happier living the same day over and over again than I would be if you were dead. So promise me that you won't try something that goddamn stupid again."

Easy for him to say, Rook thought bitterly, when he didn't have to remember every day before. Still, Rook swallowed his pride without choking and said, "Alright. I promise." He brought one of Ben's hands up, hesitating. For a moment, Rook had almost pressed a kiss to Ben's knuckles. Remembering himself, Rook instead set Ben's hand over his cheek, finger curling over it, and leaned into the touch. It was less romantic but just as intimate. Rook wanted to close his eyes and believe that Ben would fix everything like he always did.

There was a frown on Ben's face as he worried his thumb over Rook's fur, brushing faintly along the line of his jaw. He was squinting at Rook's face like he wasn't quite sure who he was looking at. "So what now?" Ben asked. He was letting Rook hold onto him, seeming unbothered and indifferent to the contact. Rook, unused to touching anyone without his armor in the way, felt his throat closing up the more he thought about how warm Ben was, so he tried not to focus on it. "If you've tried everything and nothing has worked, then… How are we supposed to fix this?"

"_We," _as if Ben couldn't imagine a world where he and Rook didn't tackle their missions together. Even when all he had to go on that there was a problem at all was Rook's word.

"I do not know." Rook forced himself to take a deep breath. At least he had stopped crying. "I am… beginning to consider that there's not a solution at all."

Ben made a funny little noise of disbelief. "So… what? Are you giving up?" He reached up with his other hand, letting go of Rook to grip his face with both hands. "Rook, don't give up on me like this. There's always a solution."

Rook didn't bother trying to fake any optimism. His eyes slid lazily to the side and his shoulders slumped. "_How_?"

Stumped, Ben stared with his mouth slightly open and said nothing. A dozen emotions flashed across his eyes too quickly for Rook to discern, then his eyebrows drew down into a scowl and he settled on one feeling: determination. "I don't know, I'll— I'll try Alien X again. I'll get Bellicus and Serena to agree with me somehow. I've done it before," he argued.

The thought of spending the rest of the day with silence and his destroyed room while Ben debated inside of Alien X filled Rook with such potent dread that his stomach seized up. "No!" He grabbed Ben by the forearms, leaning in closer. "Don't. Tomorrow, we can try again, but for today—" Rook struggled with the right words. His expression crumbled. "Don't leave me today. _Please_."

There was a moment where Ben just stared at him, motionless, and Rook held his breath. He knew that he had no right to ask that of Ben after what he had done, but Rook couldn't imagine dragging himself through another hopeless day alone. No, not alone — doing it with anyone other than Ben would be just as miserable as doing it by himself.

Ben let out a breath and closed his eyes. "Alright," he agreed when he opened them. He forced a little smile. "It's not like I'll remember this, right? It doesn't affect me. We can just sit here for today if that's what you want."

A small part of Rook wanted to argue. The idea that this didn't affect Ben was just _wrong_. He was as stuck as Rook was, just as trapped, just as disillusioned. Rook could see it in Ben's eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat realizing that, tomorrow, he would have to do this all over again. See Ben so subdued and quiet and agreeable, so unlike the overconfident grin that normally adorned his face.

Rook was dimly aware of how close their faces were. He wanted to cup Ben's face, press their foreheads together and breathe him in, feeling the reassurance of his weight… But Rook didn't move, letting out a fluttering sigh. "Thank you, Ben. You have… no idea how much that means to me."

"Don't mention it, dude." Ben's smile tilted up awkwardly on one side, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes turning strained. "But, uh, if you're going to keep holding me, can you put on some clothes?"

Ah. Right. Rook looked down at himself, still wearing only the boxers he'd gone to bed in, and felt a distant brush of embarrassment. It was hard to feel ashamed when not wearing a shirt was so unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

"Of course." He nodded and stood up. Rook had a shirt and a pair of pants he could use, just standard workout wear that the Plumbers provided to everyone. He usually didn't wear it because, if he wasn't training in his Proto-Armor, how was he supposed to be accustomed to it when he fought?

He walked over to his destroyed dresser and then paused, turning to look at Ben. That time, Rook was a little embarrassed. "I, um… you do not mind if I skip taking a shower, do you?"

He really didn't want to spell it out, but the thought of letting Ben out of his sight made Rook's stomach churn with anxiety. And since showering in front of Ben was obviously out of the question, Rook was going to have to skip brushing his fur for a day. He was more than okay with that.

It took Ben a moment to catch on, but then his face colored. He looked a little embarrassed but, also, touched. Flattered, maybe? And definitely confused. "Sure. Yeah, don't worry about it." He waved his hand dismissively. "It's not like I shower every day either."

With that settled, Rook turned his back on Ben and pulled on a loose, plain white t-shirt and a pair of army-green sweatpants. The sensation of fabric against his fur was foreign, but not in a bad way. It sort of reminded Rook of being back on Revonnah. That must have been the last time he wore proper clothes, too. His fellow trainees used to tease him for never relaxing or being out of uniform, but the joke was on them. Rook's obsessive hard work had gotten him the position of being Ben Tennyson's partner.

And maybe more than that. Rook wanted to say "best friends," but that didn't quite sit right with him. He would have to ruminate more on that later.

Dressed, Rook sat back down in front of Ben on the dirty floor. He hesitated with the newfound awkwardness that had settled between them, then reached out and grabbed hold of Ben's hands loosely. "I am sorry," Rook said, staring between them. He watched as his thumbs traced lazy circles over Ben's knuckles. "I know it is not fair of me to ask this of you."

Ben made a noise that could have been a laugh if it wasn't so sad. "I'd do this for you every day, Rook," he promised.

For some reason, Rook believed it. There were a dozen different ways he could have disagreed: "_I don't deserve that," _was a particularly powerful protest that rose in his throat, a noise Rook choked down only at the last second. But he didn't want to argue. Instead, Rook smiled. "I know," he said. And he did.

So he held Ben's hands in silence and let the seconds tick by. Rook breathed.

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**A/N: The next chapter will be the first happy one. Yay! You guys must be hyped for that. **


	9. thoughts devour, thoughts of you consume

**A/N: So, good news everyone! I've finally plotted out the rest of this fic in its entirety and there's going to be twenty chapters in total. If I continue with my current update pace, we will have our last chapter uploaded in January of 2022. I might get done before then, but we'll see how my life goes as well as the rest of my on-going projects. Fingers crossed!**

**Also, let me know if you guys like when I leave mini-playlists to listen to for each chapter. I don't have one for this chapter (because it's not as eventful as some of the others are going to be), but I like making them so if you guys use them, let me know. **

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_Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,  
__yemin ederim yanından ayrılmayacağım._

_Beni cehenneme sürükley—_

It was with a heavy heart that Rook opened his eyes and, slowly, reached with fumbling hands to turn the alarm clock off. He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, staring at the ground with a frown.

It wasn't a new day, not really, but it was the closest that Rook was going to get. His lips thinned unhappily. Another day meant another attempt to fix things, but Rook was at a loss and he had no idea where to start.

His fingers plucked at the threads of his blanket idly. Ben might have more success with Alien X the second time, if Rook gave him more information to go off of. But then again, he might not, and Rook would end up passing an entire day alone again.

It seemed rather hopeless to Rook, but the thought didn't fill him with the same dread as it had just a day ago. He held his hands up to his face and flexed his fingers idly. Hands that were hardened from plowing fields, cramped from hours filling out paperwork, damp with blood seeping through the cracks. Hands that had interlocked with Ben's and stayed that way for hours.

The memory of the day before didn't make Rook smile, exactly. It felt too depressing to smile about, although it had been… _sweet_. Rook rolled the word around in his head. Yes, "sweet" seemed appropriate. Ben was a good friend and it was nice to see him concerned for Rook's well-being and doing his best to help. He'd never really seen that side of Ben firsthand, probably because Rook had never gone through anything as turbulent as this. The way they'd clung to each other, at Rook's request, had been very sweet.

Unsure what he was doing, Rook stood up. He let muscle memory take over and ended up in his bathroom, where he stripped and showered and brushed his fur as well as his fangs before dressing again. Rook caught up with himself as he was reaching for his Proto-Armor, a damp towel around his waist and his body smelling of the brandless Plumber shampoo. He hesitated to pull on his body suit and armor. An old itch in his head told him that he needed to be prepared for any eventuality, that it was unsafe to go anywhere without the proper protection. But a bigger part of him couldn't be bothered. His armor hadn't helped Ben. He'd been wearing it every time that Ben had died, or been kidnapped or hurt or lost.

The armor didn't matter. Rook was what made the difference, by being a good partner. And, looking back, it seemed like he was a fairly shitty one.

His expression hardened. Well, that could be changed. He reached for his sweatpants and loose shirt, tugging them on. Rook knew how casual and unprofessional it looked, but he didn't care. He left his room and, instead of heading to the garage, went to the main hub.

It was mostly empty at five-thirty in the morning but, to Rook's fortune, Magister Tennyson had always been an early riser. He was still muffling yawns, eyes only half-opened as he sipped on coffee and flipped half-heartedly through a mountain of paperwork waiting for him. Rook made a beeline for him.

"Magister Tennyson," Rook said without waiting to be addressed, "I would like to use one of my vacation days."

Max nearly choked on his coffee. He set his mug down with a clatter and covered his mouth to cough, gasping. When he looked up at Rook, his eyebrows were attempting to disappear into his hairline. "You want time off?" He asked, like he'd misheard.

Rook couldn't exactly blame him. Several times, he'd tried to have his "required vacation" that was coming up in two months pushed back or removed entirely. He was always perfectly punctual, he never missed a day, and Rook took any extra hours that he was legally allowed to have. Time off seemed like a mark of failure to him, when maintaining the fields was a year-round endeavor on Revonnah.

But now, Rook felt like he was going to explode if he had to go through one more day acting like he gave a damn about his job.

"Yes," he said with a nod, casual as could be. "I would like today off. And for Ben, too. We have plans," Rook said vaguely.

Once he'd recovered from the initial shock, Magister Tennyson frowned. "Time off should be scheduled two weeks in advance," he said. But that wasn't a refusal, so Rook stayed quiet and waited patiently. He didn't have to wait long. After a moment's thought, Max sighed. "I'll give your patrol to one of our reserve teams. They've been needing the hours, anyway. You and Ben hardly get any breaks as it is."

Even though he'd known that would be the answer, Rook still managed a relieved smile. "Thank you. I would like no interruptions unless it's at least a world-threatening disaster," he said with as much humor as he could muster.

Which wasn't a lot, but it got a chuckle from Max anyway as he took another sip of his coffee. "Done," he agreed. "I see you're already dressed for leisure." His eyes raked down Rook's body and Max made a face. Personally, Rook agreed. He wore his Proto-Armor so often that to wear anything else felt wrong. But Magister Tennyson said nothing and he waved his hand, signalling that Rook was dismissed. "Well, enjoy your time sleeping in. I'll notify Ben that he has today off."

"I will do it," Rook blurted out, far more eager than he meant to be. Max raised an eyebrow and Rook winced, hurrying to correct himself. "I mean, we have plans together already. It will save you the trouble if I just tell him when I see him."

In truth, Rook had no plans with Ben whatsoever, except for keeping him as far away from the line of fire as possible. He knew that five-thirty in the morning was an inappropriate time to drive to someone's house and wake them up, but he wished that he was already there. It was another hour and a half until Ben's alarm would wake him up and Rook couldn't imagine how he was going to get through it.

After another moment, Magister Tennyson shrugged. "Well, I don't see the harm in it," he allowed. "Have a good day, then, Rook."

Rook nodded politely, already turning to walk away. He was eager and impatient to see Ben and Rook knew that it was unusual, but he didn't care to justify it to himself. "To you as well, sir," he replied with a wave.

Once Max's back was turned, Rook broke into a jog. He didn't stop to eat or do his morning workout, although both of those would have been good for distracting him and working out some of his nervous energy. He slowed as he neared the garage, allowing himself to think.

There was nothing that he wanted to try. Rook had promised Ben the day before that he would try Alien X again, but now that he was actually awake, the idea seemed as unappealing as it had the last time he considered it. It wasn't just that he would be alone for the day. Rook could get Gwendolyn and Kevin to join in on his vigil if he really wanted to, all of them hoping that Alien X would come up with some sort of solution. He would have company, but Ben would not be there.

If there was one thing that Rook had come to realize, it was that a day without Ben was empty and wasted. He didn't want to throw away day after day after day waiting for Ben to get done with Alien X if it didn't work again. It hadn't worked the first time. Rook doubted that the second time would make much of a difference.

The plan, as it were, was just to take a day off and spend it with Ben. Rook wasn't sure why he wanted that so badly, but he did. He felt tired and rubbed raw, like someone had scrapped his insides out and left his husk out to dry. Besides which, Rook was growing painfully aware of how little time he spent with Ben outside of work. They could just hang out for a day. What was the harm in that?

He wished that he had figured it out sooner. Rook would have liked to do something for Ben that he would actually remember in the morning.

Doing something for Ben was a good idea, though. Rook had already gotten him a smoothie. What else could Rook surprise him with? Perhaps a full breakfast? Food was an easy gift. Rook idled next to the Proto-TRUK, lost in thought. Maybe a Christmas-themed trinket? Or Sumo Slammers merchandise? Rook had always been horrible with gifts. It was Revonnah tradition that gifts were handmade, but that was more for courting purposes and, anyway, Rook didn't have the time to do something like that in just an hour or two.

He hesitated, drumming his fingers along the hull of the Proto-TRUK thoughtfully. There were a lot of options available to him, but none of them felt special enough. Rook had months of poor partnership and even poorer friendship to make up for. But Ben wasn't the type to ask for gifts, or to even want anything as far as Rook remembered. Then again, he'd never spent a birthday or gift-giving holiday with Ben.

Rook perked up. Of course! He could just ask Gwendolyn, or Ben's parents, or Max. Kevin must have spent a few birthdays with Ben, too.

Funny how it was so easy to forget that other people cared about Ben as well.

For the sake of wasting time until seven-fifteen, Rook settled on getting a quick breakfast. He was sure that Mrs. Tennyson wouldn't approve of fast food, but she wasn't nearly rude enough to forbid Ben from eating it.

Climbing into the TRUK, Rook settled in to wait for a more reasonable time to get everything done. He tried halfheartedly to brainstorm about ways to break the time loop, only for the inherent hopelessness of more failed attempts to drive him back to happier pursuits. At the moment, Rook's focus was on doing something for Ben while also keeping him from dying or getting otherwise hurt. Considering what had happened the day before, especially, Rook had a lot to make up for.

It chafed at him that Ben wouldn't remember anything that Rook did for him, but that struck him as somewhat fitting. He was apologizing for grievances that were purely in his own head and for mistakes that only Rook remembered. He supposed that he would just have to keep trying until he had satisfied himself.

That wasn't going to be a problem, at least. With the way things were going, Rook was beginning to think that he had an eternity to work everything out.

He didn't let himself linger too long on that thought, knowing that it would end up making him feel dejected. As soon as the time hit six-thirty, Rook started the TRUK and pulled out of the garage. He tried to drive slowly on the streets to take up as much time as he could. It wasn't terribly successful, but Rook spent long enough fumbling with human money and how fast food places work that he ended up getting to Ben's house just after seven. Which was perfect timing, in his opinion, even if he'd managed it in a less than elegant way.

Rook got out of the car with food in hand, grease stains on the bottom of the unassuming brown paper bag. He'd never liked fast food, but there would be plenty of fruit in the Tennyson household so Rook would probably just end up eating that. Or nothing at all. He hadn't eaten much at all the last few days and it didn't bother him. Most likely because there had been too much going on for him to take the time to register hunger.

He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Rook figured that _someone _in the house would answer, although his heart was beating faster at the thought of Ben being the one to open it.

There was a long pause, then the door's lock clicked and it was swung open. Rook couldn't keep the smiling from falling off of his face, although Sandra seemed understanding about it.

"He's in the shower," Sandra said without Rook needing to even open his mouth. "You can come in and wait for him if you want, Rook. I'm making smoothies — they're rich in fiber." She opened the door wider, stepping back so Rook could cross the threshold. When Sandra spotted the bag that Rook was holding, she corrected herself. "Oh, you brought something to eat." Her nose wrinkled but, out of politeness, she didn't comment on the fatty food.

"It is not for me," Rook said with a chuckle. "I thought that Ben might like it. We do not have patrol today, so in the interest of doing something relaxing for him today…" He gestured at the bag and hoped that it spoke for him.

Sandra nodded in understanding and the smile came back to her face. "Ah, a day off? That's sweet of you, Rook. I'm sure that Ben will be glad to hear the news." She wandered back toward the kitchen, where Rook could see a blender set on the counter next to a bowl of fruit, only half of which were familiar to him. An apple was perched on top and seemed to be glaring at Rook, challenging him. "So, then, do you want a smoothie? I take requests."

Rook walked boldly over to her. No — today was going to be different. He grabbed a pear from the bowl. The apple remained untouched. "No, thank you. Only this," Rook said with a smile that was only somewhat forced.

That earned him an amused glance from Sandra before she turned away from Rook to busy herself with her smoothie-making. "Well, alright then. You can wait on the couch for Ben if you want. He should be out any minute now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Tennyson." Rook took a bite of the pear as he walked over to the couch. It was sweeter and softer than apples were and Rook found that he enjoyed it more. He took another bite and sat down, placing Ben's food on the coffee table.

The silence between him and Sandra was pleasant. Rook assumed that she was too tired to bother with small talk or entertaining guests, which worked out all the better for him. He didn't want to prattle on about the weather or recent neighborhood changes. The only thing he could think about (and had been thinking about for quite some time now) was Ben.

Speaking of, the bathroom door opened down the hall and Rook's head snapped up. Steam poured out into the hallway and Ben came right after it, dressed casually and still rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He walked into the living room with his head down, his bangs and the towel blocking his vision.

"Ben, sweetie." Sandra chuckled. "You might want to hurry and finish getting ready. You have a visitor."

"Who, Rook?" Ben finally lifted his head. "He's here everyday, what—?" His eyes landed on Rook almost immediately and he froze. It took a moment to process, then Ben lowered the towel away from his head.

Somehow, Ben's hair was even more unruly fresh out of the shower than it was after he woke up. Rook choked on the laugh fighting its way out of his throat, clamping a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook. Ben, with his hair in clumps and sticking straight up and in a dozen other directions, flushed red with embarrassment.

"Mom, you could've warned me!" Ben whined. "Just— let me go get my brush, oh my _God_, this is why you're supposed to wait outside."

He stormed off with an exaggerated huff and Rook finally let out his laugh when Sandra did, both of them working to suppress it to a more reasonable volume as Ben fumbled around the bathroom for his brush. Rook realized a second too late that he could have taken the time alone to ask Sandra about gift-buying for Ben. It wasn't a good time to try now, when Ben was in earshot and soon going to make his way back.

While the blender whirred away, Rook lost the ability to hear Ben struggle with his hair. The work must have paid off though because, not five minutes later, Ben came back into the room with his hair styled as it was everyday. Rook raised an eyebrow. Funny how Ben seemed to care so much and still left it looking wind-swept and perpetually tousled. It was a good look on him, of course, Rook just had trouble understanding human grooming habits.

"You can stop staring. I look like this every day," Ben said lightly, nudging Rook with his knee to make him scoot over before dropping onto the couch next to him. As soon as he did, his gaze snapped to the bag of food that Rook brought and his eyes lit up. "Is that what I think it is?"

Rook leaned forward and grabbed the bag, placing it in Ben's hands. Despite his eagerness, having it just handed it to him took Ben by surprise. "It is for you," Rook explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't know how to tell Ben the real reason for it, so he just said, "I took the liberty of getting us today off. Since I did not ask your permission, you can consider this an apology." The words tasted sour on Rook's tongue. Even worse was the way that his explanation made Ben's crinkled expression smooth out. Were they that bad with each other, that Ben couldn't believe that Rook would give him a gift just because he wanted to? Did Rook really need an excuse to be kind and thoughtful?

"Oh, wow," Ben said as he rifled through the bag. "You really went and got a full breakfast, huh, Rook? Hash browns, sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits…" He made a show out of shuddering. "I haven't been allowed to have this much grease in the house since the birthday where I twisted my ankle during a game of soccer and mom felt bad for me. If I go into cardiac arrest over this, Rook, I want you to let everyone know that I died happy."

It was a good thing that Ben wasn't looking at him, because Rook's smile was so strained that his jaw was starting to ache from how tightly he was clenching it. "Of course," he managed evenly. That seemed to be a good enough response for Ben.

"Hold on, lemme grab a coffee to go with this. Do you want anything to drink?" Ben asked, already getting to his feet.

In answer, Rook shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Ben shrugged, unbothered, and disappeared into the kitchen. It was nerve-wracking to have Ben out of sight, of course, but being able to still hear his voice helped a lot. Listening to Ben bicker with his mother about whether or not he was allowed to drink coffee with such an unhealthy breakfast was strangely grounding. Maybe it was the domesticity of it. Rook couldn't place the reason, exactly, but he let their voices become white noise that buzzed in the air, on his tongue, and did his best to relax.

Of course, all of that effort put into unwinding was wasted when Ben suddenly dropped back onto the couch next to him. Rook struggled to cover his startle while Ben, not noticing, grumbled as he set a glass of milk on the table and pulled the rest of his food out of the bag. "So," Ben asked, chewing on one of the biscuits, "a day off, huh? That's not like you. Got anything off-the-grid planned?"

Rook shook his head, smiling pleasantly. "No, nothing planned. I just realized that it has been a while since we have any day off or did something together outside of work. So I wanted to take the time while things are quiet to do something that you want to do," he offered. "Magister Tennyson agreed not to call us unless the threat is at least world-threatening." Which certainly didn't include anything like a fire downtown.

"The whole day off, huh?" Ben sat back on the couch to ponder the possibilities, sipping on his milk. "Wow, I guess I don't really know. The last time I had a day off, I bought this new Sumo Slammers video game, but I never got to actually play it because…" He trailed off, struggling with the memory for a moment, then eventually gave up with a sigh. "You know, I don't even remember. It's always something."

There was an unpleasant twinge in Rook's chest, something like guilt. He did his best to look relaxed and at ease. "We can try playing it now," he suggested. "I cannot promise to be any good, but it might be fun." And it really looked like Ben needed it. Video games weren't Rook's preferred method of relaxing, but he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do than just be near Ben so Rook wasn't feeling picky. He was too in his own head. Rook wanted to be in the moment. He wanted to remember every second before he went back to sleep.

"Seriously?" Ben raised an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smile stretching across his face. He had a milk mustache and bread crumbs on his lips. Rook tried and failed not to find it endearing. "I mean, if you insist. Sure. Let me just finish eating and get this cleaned up. Mom and Dad work today, so we'll end up having the house to ourselves at some point." He playfully rolled his eyes. "It's not that much fun to play video games around Dad. He doesn't understand them at all and his jokes are terrible."

Rook doubted that he would be much better, but he nodded. It was enough that Ben wanted to share the time alone with him. "That is fine," he said. "It gives you time to set up."

As it turned out, Ben needed that time to set up. His device was behind on several updates and he couldn't remember where'd he'd left the game to begin with and the controllers were both dead. While Ben went around fussing over this and that, his parents both showered and wished him a good day before heading off for their jobs. Rook found a pleasant sort of ache settling in his chest as he watched. It was nice to sit on the couch and have the morning routines of Ben's family bustle around him.

It was a peaceful, familiar sort of setting that shouldn't have been able to exist side-to-side with what Rook had been through the last few days. Instead of seeing Ben's corpse, Rook was thinking about mornings on Revonnah, his mother cooking and his father already out in the fields. He was dragging Young One from bed and Shim and Shi were hogging the washroom again while Shar's complaints echoed down the hall.

He wished that he could forget, just for one day. Rook wanted to be able to enjoy the day without knowing that it was going to be gone in the morning. No matter what he did, Ben would never remember it.

"Okay! Finally got everything ready." Ben sank down onto the couch, startling Rook from his thoughts for the second time. He held one of the controllers out for Rook to take. "Today we're playing _Sumo Slammers 5: Back With A Vengeance_. I heard that the story is lackluster, but it's the first Sumo Slammers game to have a multiplayer story mode and it has mini games besides that we can play if you need to get familiar with the controls or don't like the story," Ben rambled. "It's supposed to have a twist villain, too, but I didn't look too much into that. Spoilers, you know?"

Rook did not know, as a matter of fact, but he nodded as though everything that Ben was saying made perfect sense. He had only held a gaming controller a few times in his life, all of them while he was on Earth, and none of them looked like the one that he was holding at the moment. He scowled. He could assemble and disassemble his blaster blindfolded, he could strip Galvan technology for parts for his TRUK, he could handle the Proto-Tool which had previously been described as "too complex and dangerous to be practical for combat." _Surely_, Rook could handle a video game.

"Which button turns it on?" Rook asked, squinting at the controller.

Ben gave him a pitying smile and reached over, taking the controller carefully and turning it one-hundred-and-eighty degrees in Rook's hands. Rook stared down at it dumbly. "We'll start with the tutorial," Ben said cheerily.

The tutorial wasn't as helpful as Ben seemed to think it was. To be fair, it could be because Rook wasn't really paying attention or trying all that hard. He found himself in an odd position. See, the last few times that Rook had been playing video games with Ben, he had seen it as a way to learn more about human culture. But now he was far more interested in staring at Ben.

And the game gave Rook a very good excuse to do that. Ben was wholly transfixed by the game and he didn't notice if Rook kept his head turned a little to see Ben. The story mode that they were playing worked so that, if one player died, the other could collect objects to revive them or just wait until the current wave of enemies was cleared. It was convenient for keeping Rook's character dead for long stretches of time, since Ben was usually more concerned with playing the game than reviving Rook.

That was fine. Eventually, Rook started making a point of draining his character's health in the most ridiculous and unlikely ways possible. The way that it made Ben laugh was far more amusing than the game itself. He'd ended up clutching his sides when Rook found a glitch that spliced his character into the walls and produced the injured sound over and over. Rook found himself smiling despite himself, but he wasn't looking at the screen. He was finding it harder and harder to look away from Ben, or even to leave his side from day to day.

Ben had ended up laughing so hard that he didn't notice his character being attacked until he had died. He didn't seem to mind, grinning and red in the face as he looked up at Rook. Eye contact made the tenderness leave Rook's face, like something had closed up. He looked away and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though he'd done anything to be ashamed of.

Not noticing that anything was wrong, Ben stood up and stretched. "Wow, it's already past noon," he remarked, staring at the clock above the TV.

Tearing his eyes away from the sliver of skin that was revealed by Ben's shirt riding up, Rook stared out the window instead. As if to confirm that it was, in fact, noon. The sun was noticeably higher in the sky and there was hardly a cloud to be seen. Rook's lips thinned. Magister Tennyson had kept his word and hadn't called. Downtown, under the lovely sky, people were dying in an electrical fire.

Rook knew that it was selfish to not do anything about it. He didn't care.

"I'll make lunch," Ben suggested, staring similarly out the window with an odd look on his face. Rook wanted to ask what Ben was thinking — because, surely, that look couldn't have been inspired by thoughts of food — but found himself taken instead by the way that the filtered sunlight caught on Ben's profile. He looked so content and relaxed. Rook kept his mouth shut, because Ben deserved a day to play video games and keep his thoughts to himself if he wanted to. "Any requests?" he asked as he headed for the kitchen.

It took Rook a moment to remember what the question was and by the time he'd worked out an answer, Ben had stopped walking. He was hovering in the kitchen entryway with a hand on the wall, an eyebrow raised in part amusement and concern. "Uh.. Whatever you want to make for yourself will be fine for me," Rook answered. He figured that he might as well eat something so that Ben didn't worry.

"Hope you're in the mood for frozen potstickers, then," Ben said lightly. "It'll just be ten minutes or so. Hold on." He ducked into the kitchen and Rook heard his footsteps crossed the room, followed by pans banging and rustling as he shuffled through the freezer.

Alone, Rook similarly stood up and stretched. He was sore from sitting down for so long. Unlike Ben, Rook's body wasn't used to it. Ben never did commit to formal workouts, but he was doing so much fieldwork that he didn't need it to stay fit. He certainly wasn't muscular — lithe was the more apt term. And flexible, more focused on speed in his human form than the strength and special abilities that the Omnitrix could provide.

Rook found something sort of admirable about that. Ben knew what he could afford to skip out on. He didn't push himself to obsessive workouts or diets and he didn't spend days laying around and doing nothing. It was bitter to swallow.

It seemed, in all things, that Ben knew what he was doing. Rook smiled in discontent. And to think, when they'd first met, Rook had been arrogant enough to think that he'd saved Ben Tennyson and even potentially _taught _him something.

What a joke.

About fifteen minutes later, Ben came back with potstickers that were, as he put it, "only slightly" burnt. Rook finally learned what a potsticker was and found that he didn't dislike it. Human food was a mixed bag. Earth had many more crops than Revonnah. The town that Rook had grown up in, at least, only had reliable access to Amber Ogia. Rook had learned to like it because it was either that or nothing.

After they'd eaten, it was Ben's idea to get out of the house and take a walk around Undertown. Rook wasn't too keen on that idea, because Undertown always seemed to throw at least one problem Ben's way every time they visited, but it was a good distance away from any known burning buildings so he agreed.

Lost in thought, Rook felt the hours slip away distantly. It was easy not to notice the sun's trek across the sky when he was underground. Ben was happy to go from stall to stall in the market, examining everything that was edible, non-edible, and somewhere in between. He got a game of soccer going with some of the younger teen aliens with nothing better to do, and even managed to drag Rook into a clothes' store with "authentic human fashion" that was anything but and got him to try some things on.

It was sort of like playing the Sumo Slammers video game all over again. Rook still didn't mind. He was content. Ben took the lead, like he always did. He had his fun and Rook got the pleasure of watching. Normally, Rook would be snacking with him and using his long legs and better stamina to easily beat Ben at soccer (a game that he barely understood the rules of), but Rook's heart wasn't in it. It was enough for him to know that he was giving Ben something new. In its own way, Rook supposed that _this _was his gift.

Ironically, even though he knew that it would only be Thursday again in the morning, Rook found his chest aching. He didn't want to say goodbye to Ben. He wished that the day would never end. Rook didn't want to do everything all over again.

He knew that he was going to wake up alone and Rook couldn't stand the thought.

Ben elected to leave Undertown around dinner time so that they could stop and get chilli fries. It was nice to be alone again. Or, as alone as they could be driving down the highway with people in other cars as far as the eye could see. It was quiet between them, in a comfortable way that it couldn't have been during the beginnings of their partnership.

Rook spent more time staring at Ben out of the corner of his eye than he did actually watching the road. Driving was familiar, like a sixth sense. But Ben was one of the few things that studying never got Rook any closer to understanding. He wondered if Ben even knew what he was doing, by just sitting there — Rook's heart was beating much too fast and his grip on the steering wheel was punishing. The idea of talking made his mouth dry and nervousness sent his stomach fluttering. And Ben wasn't even looking at him.

While Ben went into Burger Shack to order, Rook waited with the TRUK parked and the engine still humming away. He stared blankly at the steering wheel, lost in thought. It was becoming so common for Rook that he was more surprised when he was actually paying attention to his surroundings. He wanted to ask Ben if he could spend the night. Rook didn't want to leave Ben's side but, on the other hand, he knew that it was only going to be a crushing disappointment when he woke up and he was alone. Just like when he'd fallen asleep holding Ben's hand on— what was that, the third day? The fourth? It didn't matter.

The point was, Rook was worried about what Ben might think for a request like that. It wasn't improper, was it? He'd gathered from human television that "sleepovers" were common for members of the same sex, but it would just be himself and Ben, alone in his room all night…

The passenger door opened and slammed shut as Ben clamored in. He brought a bag of unappetizing-smelling food with him, digging into it as soon as he was situated.

"Seatbelt," Rook said reflexively. He tapped his fingers against the wheel while Ben complied but, even when he was done, didn't try to put the TRUK into motion. He bit his lip. Unsure what he was going to say, Rook nonetheless opened his mouth. "Ben?"

"Hm?" Ben arched an eyebrow at him, mouth full. The smell of chilli and onions and grease was strong.

Still, it wasn't the scent in the air that made Rook's stomach churn. The words were on the tip of his tongue — "_Is it alright if I spend the night?" _— but he couldn't bring himself to give them a voice. Rook gave a strained smile instead. "I, um, wanted to say that I had a good time with you today. We should have days off more often."

Ben stopped with another fry half-way to his mouth. He lowered it and looked at Rook like he'd just grown two heads. "_You_ want more time off? Are you alright, Rook? You're not sick or something, are you?" He twisted around in his seat, searching the back of the TRUK for something. "I swear, this better not be a prank."

"No, Ben, it is not—" Rook sighed and reached over, taking hold of Ben's free hand. His expression turned searching. "Why do you think that I have to be joking? Can I not just enjoy spending time with you?"

For a moment, Ben stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, sure. Of course you can, it's… fine." He looked away, visibly growing uncomfortable. "I like spending time with you, too. But you've never… I don't know, put it like that, I guess. We're partners, you know." Ben shrugged with one shoulder. "Isn't it just a work relationship for you?" He forced a laugh. "I never actually thought that you wanted to get saddled with Ben Tennyson. Ben 10 is the hero of legends, you know, and I'm just…" Ben turned his attention back to the bag of chilli fries and popped one into his mouth. "...just sitting here eating chilli fries."

Rook's stomach twisted violently. He opened his mouth and no words came out. What the _fuck _was he supposed to say to that? Was that really how Ben thought Rook saw things? That their relationship only existed as long as their partnership did? That Rook didn't respect Ben without his long list of accomplishments? That any inkling of friendship was just him keeping up a steady _work relationship_?

He closed his mouth with a violent click of his fangs. Rook could only stare. He wondered what he had done _wrong_. It was becoming increasingly obvious that, at some point between meeting Ben and entering the time loop, Rook had fucked up. Ben didn't think that Rook valued him as a person. There was no way to get around that.

So Rook didn't try. He forced himself to swallow and take a breath. Instead of apologizing, or trying to plead with Ben to reconsider, or begging him to explain further, Rook said, "...What do you want to do tomorrow?"

Ben blinked. His head tilted slightly to the side. "What?"

"Tomorrow," Rook repeated, determined. "Tell me what you want to do tomorrow. Anything, Ben. Name it. I will make it happen."

There was a little awkward laugh from Ben. He waved a hand dismissively. "I don't know. I mean— if I had to pick something, I'd probably want a day with Mom and Dad. They're always talking about taking time off of work for Christmas, but it's harder for me. And Christmas is, like, a week away and we still haven't put up any of the decorations. Not the tree, or the stockings, or the outside lights…" Ben listed them off on his fingers and his mouth twisted in displeasure. "I wish I could do more for them. I can't even be home for Christmas."

Rook nodded. He couldn't give Ben Christmas, or even the next day, but he could give Ben _this _day. Over and over again, until they ran out of things that he wanted to do. And when that happened, well… Rook wasn't sure if he would still be sane by the end of it, but this was a plan. He could do something with this. If he couldn't stop time from looping, then Rook could at least learn to live with it.

"I will drive you home," he said, finally pulling away from the Burger Shack. "You should get some rest, Ben."

Even though Rook wasn't looking, he could tell that Ben was looking at him oddly again. "What, you don't want to do the night patrol? When you said that we got the day off, I thought that you meant just the _day_."

"No." Rook shook his head. "We have all day." For eternity. "And I know that you do not sleep regularly, so it is best for you to get home early tonight. That is not healthy."

Ben rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know, _mom_," he mocked, waving a chilli fry in Rook's direction, "that I once kicked Vilgax's ass on two hours of sleep. And I've kicked his ass so many times that I don't even remember which time that was."

"That is beside the point." Rook waved his hand dismissively. He started down the familiar road to Ben's house. "You could do with some rest and a day off. You would not mind taking another vacation day tomorrow, would you?"

That got him a laugh. "What's gotten into you recently, man?" Ben asked. Something about it made Rook think that it was rhetorical, so he didn't answer.

It wasn't a long drive from the Burger Shack to the Tennyson household, so the quiet between them didn't get long to linger before Rook was pulling up alongside the driveway. When he stopped, Rook was stuck staring out the window. He was waiting for Ben to get out and making it easier on himself by not watching. But when he didn't hear the door open and close, Rook turned to look at Ben and blinked as they made eye contact.

Now he was the one confused. Rook's eyebrows furrowed. "Ben?"

The sound of his name snapped him out of it and Ben shook his head. "Sorry. It's nothing. But I, uh, wanted to tell you that I really appreciate what you did today," he said carefully, speaking as though weighing each word before letting it out. "And I guess having you as a friend in general. It's been really nice getting to work with you and everything else." Ben gestured helplessly with one hand and his face was tinted pink. "I'm really bad at this sort of stuff. You can shut me up at any time, you know."

Actually, Rook sort of wished that Ben would never stop talking. He smiled faintly. "I feel the same way, Ben." Was this it? Were they finally speaking openly with each other? Rook felt like the invisible chasm between them was being closed. "I feel like, for the longest time, I have been ignoring how important you are to me. I never told you how I feel. But, Ben, the truth is, I do not care about your hero status." He wanted to hold Ben's hand. Why was he the only one leaning closer? "Because I love you."

The smile on Ben's face was brilliant and painful. It sucked the air out of the TRUK's cabin. "I love you, too, dude," he said. Then Ben opened the passenger door and the energy between them popped like a bubble. Rook physically reeled back, stunned. Wait. What was happening? The distance between them had returned, but Ben's smile had never been more genuine. Rook didn't understand — where was the miscommunication? "Thanks for the chilli fries, Rook! See you tomorrow." Ben waved and shut the door behind him. He jogged up to his house and stepped inside, all without looking behind him once.

When he was out of sight, Rook still couldn't seem to move. His hand was outstretched in front of him as though to grab something that was long gone. Slowly, Rook lowered it.

He hadn't said anything wrong. Rook loved Ben, he was sure of that. They were partners and best friends, practically family. And Ben had clearly echoed that sentiment, which was a good thing, so…

So why did it feel like Rook was missing something?


End file.
